


Harry Potter and the Guide of Hogwarts

by elyssblair



Series: Sentinel 'verse [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Sentinels & Guides, M/M, Sentinel Senses, Sentinel/Guide Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-10
Updated: 2014-05-10
Packaged: 2018-01-23 19:28:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 47,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1576862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elyssblair/pseuds/elyssblair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Harry Potter and the Sentinel Phenomenon.<br/>Harry is focused on taking down Voldemort. Draco must deal with the possibility of facing his father. Neville is still coming to terms with his new-found Sentinel senses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Harry had never given much thought to how he would spend the last afternoon of summer before starting his seventh year at Hogwarts. The possibility of exploring the dilapidated Gaunt home in company with Dumbledore would probably not have even made it on the list.

But here he was. The ancient shack looked exactly like it had in the Pensieve memory and yet, completely different. It was disintegrating in place. Holes gaped in the walls, floorboards warped from the elements, covered in dirt and leaves and Merlin knew what else. Nothing remained intact. What furniture and pottery had been left behind lay broken and scattered. 

Harry wrinkled his nose and dialed down his sense of smell to filter out the odor of decay and neglect.

"Do you really think Voldemort would have left a Horcrux here? If he actually made more than one, wouldn't it be too important to leave to the chance of scavengers running off with it?"

A shiver crept down Harry's spine at the thought of what Riddle had voluntarily done to his soul, at least once, and most likely over and over again. Since the beginning of summer, Dumbledore had been giving him 'lessons' that were really a horrifying trip into the life of Tom Riddle. A variety of Pensieve memories and conjecture which had eventually led them here.

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. The location is meaningful to him and he is more than capable of protecting that which he does not want found." Dumbledore's eyes swept over the jumbled remains. "I had intended to come here last summer, but Mr. Malfoy's early arrival at school, followed by yours, changed many things. It's probably better you're with me, Harry. Does anything seem out of place to you?"

Harry shook his head without thinking about it. The shack had been abandoned for decades, left open to the elements all that time. Not to mention whatever stray animal or transient drifter wandered in. How was he supposed to find something out of place when nothing had a place to begin with?

The Headmaster continued to wander around the shack, though, poking here and there at trash and former treasures of a long forgotten family.

With a sigh, Harry opened his senses to make a more thorough search of the ruins. Once he got past the urge to gag at the mingled foul odors threatening to overwhelm him, an unfamiliar scent took center stage. It was sharp and dark, a metallic rot unlike anything he'd ever experience. He followed it to a darkened corner cluttered with rotting leaves, an overturned pot and the remains of what might once have been a wooden stool.

He nudged the accumulated debris with his toe and realized there was something very odd about the pot. Once he cleared the leaves and rotting wood away, it was as bright and shiny as anything in Mrs. Weasley's kitchen. No matter how many times his foot had brushed against it, it hadn't moved at all.

"Professor? I think I found something."

Dumbledore hurried over and Harry stepped back to let the Headmaster work. Several unfamiliar spells later, the pot reluctantly tipped out of the way.

Underneath, gold glinted in the afternoon sun, cradling a black stone etched with some family crest.

Twin, warring reactions coiled through Harry. Satisfaction they'd found proof they were on the right track. Disgust that anyone, even Voldemort, could so thoroughly shed his humanity and sink to this level. Beside him, Dumbledore stared at the ring with a bemused expression. 

When the older wizard reached for it, a faint shimmer blurred the edges of the gold, like light bending around the metal. A jolt of unease pushed Harry into motion, reaching for Dumbledore's hand and knocking it away a heartbeat before his fingers closed around the ring.

Dumbledore blinked at him, the usual sparkle damped with surprise and confusion. 

"Sorry, sir, but I think there's a curse or a spell on it."

Old eyes sharpened and focused, narrowing in concentration. "I think you might be right, my boy."

Another round of esoteric spells and the blurriness disappeared but this time, when Dumbledore reached for the ring, he picked it up with an insulating silk cloth, just in case.

"Well, I think we have what we came for, Harry. Let's return to Grimmauld before the gloom sinks into our bones."

#

Neville tensed when he heard the opening of the front door, wand ready to cast a silencing spell in case whoever entered set off Mrs. Black's portrait. Something about the screech of her voice sent him into a zone every single time.

When soft footsteps passed by her and headed for the kitchen without an outburst, his shoulders loosened and he leaned his head back against the top of the armchair. His control had greatly improved since the beginning of summer, when he'd spent more time unconscious than awake. Even with the help of Draco and Sirius and Hermione, though, zones and spikes remained a daily problem.

He missed his grandmother and his garden, but it had made more sense for him to be in a place where all of the people who'd taken the time to learn about the phenomenon would either be in residence or regular guests. The potential Guides in and out of Grimmauld Place helped him some of the time. None of them, though, felt the way Harry had described Draco. Like a key to his lock. A perfect fit. At best, they were lockpicks. Able to get the job done, but not a dependable, permanent solution.

Tomorrow he'd go back to Hogwarts like this. Madam Pomfrey had researched some obscure condition they could blame his 'spells' on. No one would know about the Sentinel abilities. It just meant one more thing that made him look like a loser in the eyes of his classmates.

Neville took a deep breath and reminded himself he still had many blessings. Friends who understood what he was dealing with and who went out of their way to help him. A grandmother who was proud of him for finally living up to the family name. The ability to function at all through the skills and lessons Harry passed on. Lessons the other Sentinel had had to learn the hard way the year before.

Neville was a Sentinel, now. A guardian and a protector. No matter how difficult the first few months might have been, he was getting better and there was hope for the future.

If he spent the time in his secluded top floor bedroom imagining a Guide of his own, no one else ever needed to know.

#

Apparating to the square across from 12 Grimmauld Place, Harry looked around carefully for signs of anything unusual. The early evening was quiet, though, and no one looked out of place. Harry started for the front door, but Dumbledore stopped him with a gentle hand on his wrist.

"Harry, before you go in, remember, our whereabouts tonight, and what we've found must remain secret from everyone but those you have already shared this knowledge with."

With a deep sigh, Harry nodded. As exciting as it was to get one step closer to putting an end to Voldemort once and for all, Ron and Draco and Hermione were the only ones who knew the whole truth of what Dumbledore had revealed to him over the summer.

He didn't like keeping secrets from Sirius or Lupin, or any of the others, but he understood. The Dark Magic they were dealing with was the kind of thing only whispered about in darkest corners of history. The more people who knew, the more likely Voldemort was to figure out his secret was no longer safe. They needed to believe he was safe right up until Harry could kill the last piece of the bastard's soul.

They tiptoed inside, careful not to wake the portrait. The interior of the house was still dejected and depressing looking but regular visits from Molly Weasley made sure it was spotless and free of all unwanted pests. Especially since Neville and Harry had taken up residence for the summer. She had made it her mission to ensure Grimmauld Place was as Sentinel-friendly as possible.

Harry automatically checked the house while they moved toward the kitchen. Two heartbeats pulsed within it. Snape was locked away in the old dining room, which had been turned into a potions lab. 

The other heartbeat in residence at the moment seemed to be Neville. Harry concentrated for a minute on the steady beat coming from Sirius's old room but the other Sentinel showed no signs of distress. The fourth floor room gave him the most insulation from stimulus overload when it was necessary to seclude himself and Sirius had graciously agreed to move into his brother's old room.

In the kitchen, they helped themselves to tea and Dumbledore cast a Silencing spell when they settled at the table. Harry stared gloomily into his cup and wondered what doom Trelawney would see in it. 

"Do you really think there are four more of those things, out there somewhere?"

"Yes, Harry I do. Despite his many faults, Voldemort was very methodical. It took many years and being chased across the continent by Death Eaters to get Slughorn to give me the true memory of that night. I have no doubt, though, Tom had already decided on the number. The conversation just confirmed the choice for himself. Short of Slughorn telling him it would kill him outright, I doubt anything would have turned him from the path he'd chosen."

"Yeah. So we've got two, now. The diary and the ring." He furrowed his brow. "That leaves four. And we don't know what they are or where to look."

Dumbledore nodded sagely. "That's true, but we have a lot of pieces of knowledge. And Hermione is doing her part to gather us even more." 

They both smiled a little. Hermione was convinced the answers to every problem must be written down somewhere. Once Harry had begun filling her in on the bits and pieces Dumbledore shared with him, she'd spent the summer in libraries, Muggle and magical, combing through everything she could find from the time Riddle graduated until the time he disappeared. She'd even gone into the archives of the Prophet and several Muggle newspapers. So far she'd turned up the obituary of Hepzibah Smith, including a photograph of her mausoleum in Wales, which doubled as tribute to her famous ancestor, and an article about a Muggle tramp who'd died of exposure and once lived at the same orphanage where Riddle grew up.

"We never know what pieces might fit into the larger picture, but eventually we will be able to see enough. Have faith, Harry."

"Yeah. I know. It's a good bet he used the cup and locket he stole, just like he used the ring he stole."

"Precisely. Also, I feel certain Nagini, while not his original intention, became a Horcrux of convenience. There is something too self-aware about her for it not to be the strong influence of another soul."

Harry shuddered at the time's he'd seen through her mind. The feeling had been so very much like the cold violence of Voldemort's that he couldn't help but agree.

"So that just leaves one more. Something of Gryffindor's do you think?"

"The only known relics of Godric Gryffindor are the sorting hat and the sword, both of which, I can assure you, Voldemort never got his hands on. Though it is possible he discovered some unknown prize that once belonged to the founder, I don't think that is the case."

"What about Rowena Ravenclaw?"

The headmaster sighed and sipped his tea, looking his age for once with strained lines deepening around his eyes.

"She left behind several books and journals. I've tracked them down over the years and all have been accounted for."

"Oh," Harry muttered into his teacup and deflated, squeezing his eyes tight. 

"There is, however, her lost diadem to consider."

Perking up, Harry tried not to let his hopes rise too high this time. "Oh?"

Dumbledore waved his wand and an image of a tiara appeared floating over the table. 

"Where's the crown now?" Harry asked, eyes glued to the sparkling image as it slowly faded.

"No one's seen it in centuries," Dumbledore sighed, looking melancholy while he turned the teacup about in his hands. "I've been researching many things, this past year, among them the diadem. I finally convinced the Grey Lady to tell me what she knew of Rowena and she shared her sad tale."

"The Grey Lady?" Harry asked. "You mean, the Ravenclaw Ghost?"

"The very same. Her story is full of woe and I promised to keep her secrets, but I did discover the diadem was last seen in the hollow of a tree in Albania."

"Albania? How am I supposed to find something in Albania? I have to go back to Hogwarts tomorrow."

"Let's focus on one thing at a time, shall we, Harry? Knowledge has a way of turning up when we need it."

Before Harry could argue, the front door opened and the feel of his Guide washed over him, easing tensions he hadn't even realized he'd been carrying. He was on his feet and heading toward the stairs before the shouting started.

#

Draco laughed when Sirius shoved Remus through the front door of the house, grumbling good-naturedly about the wolf's ability to elude them in the latest game Incacha had them playing. 

He immediately covered his mouth when he caught sight of the drape-covered portrait. Sirius kept muttering, however and Lupin rolled his eyes and nudge Sirius with his shoulder but they continued to tease and laugh.

The creak of the dining room door brought instant silence as Snape loomed and glowered at them. 

"If you don't mind, some of us have work to do." He raised an eyebrow at Sirius. "Not all of us can sleep away the day and play away the night."

Sirius snarled at him and shrugged off Lupin's restraining hand. The fact that he was still technically a fugitive was like an open, bleeding wound. While Fudge had been willing to acknowledge the man's innocence and heroism after his death, Scrimgeour had refused to 'undermine the wizarding public's faith in the Ministry's legal system in these trying times.' Considering the Minister had flat out refused to free even obviously innocent men like Stan Shunpike, Dumbledore had declined to inform him of the fugitive's miraculous recovery.

Which meant Sirius was again trapped in the gloomy reminder of an unhappy childhood. Their weekly trip for training with the jungle shaman was the only escape he had. He'd come back from the dead only to be once more imprisoned by the short-sightedness of the Ministry of Magic.

"And not all of us can swan about, having tea with a Dark Wizard every afternoon or so," Sirius snarled.

Snape's sneer deepened and he stepped out the doorway, invading Sirius's space. Lupin rolled his eyes and tried to shoulder his way in between the two, but it was too late. The harsh whispered insults escalated to shouted nastiness. 

Beneath the drape, Mrs. Black began screaming. The familiar vitriolic streams of _blood-traitor_ and _half-breed trespassers_ , bled into the shouts of _Slytherin scum_ and _arrogant Gryffindor._

Draco sighed, crossed his arms and leaned against the door. If they were going to do this, _again_ , the least they could do was try to be a little more creative. The whole thing had gone beyond boring. 

A throat cleared and all but the portrait dropped into silence. Dumbledore strode forward, a twinkle in his eye and a grin on his face. Harry hung back by the stairs, a scowl darkening his features and his hand pressed to his temple.

Draco immediately pushed past the knot of Remus, Sirius and Snape to wrap a hand around Harry's wrist and lean in close to his side.

The headmaster had pulled back the curtain and talked in low, serious tones to Walburga, who stopped screaming but continued to mutter even after he closed the drapes.

Then Dumbledore turned his eyes on the three men behind him. "Severus, how goes the potion?"

"It is coming along." He sniffed the air. "Just about time to add the aconite, I think."

Without another word, he turned with a swirl of robes and slammed the dining room door behind him.

"And the lessons were successful?"

Remus grinned a little, his face lighting up with a youthfulness that was starting to show more and more. As he continued to learn from the were-jaguar, he'd gained increasing control over his shape, able now to change from human to wolf at will. Combined with the control the Wolfsbane Potion gave him during the full moon, the stress he'd lived with most of his life had eased greatly. The pre-mature aging had halted and, while the gray remained in his hair and the strain lines remained in his face, he'd developed an enthusiasm and an optimism that made him seem years younger.

"Incacha is teaching Sirius and Draco to track people on the physical plane by following their spore in the Astral. Otoronco has been teaching me to hide my trail on both the spiritual and physical planes." Lupin's grin got brighter while he spoke and Draco's glare matched the one Sirius wore. "I managed to beat the shamans three times out of four."

"Excellent," Dumbledore said and patted the werewolf on the shoulder.

Without a word or gesture, the Headmaster seemed to silently nudge Sirius and Lupin up the stairs, while he maneuvered Draco and Harry toward the kitchen.

Once quietly ensconced in the Silenced kitchen, the tension remained in Harry's shoulders though it had shifted from the stress of yet another round of Slytherin versus Gryffindor, adult addition. Now, he looked uncertain, eyes darting from the Headmaster to Draco and back again. Dumbledore nodded at Harry and pulled a carefully folded scrap of silk from somewhere in the pleats of his robe.

"Go ahead, Harry. Tell him where we've been." 

Draco tensed. He didn't like the idea of Harry going anywhere without him. Of course, Harry hated that he had to let his Guide go off to some unknown jungle without him every week, as well.

"Harry?"

"We went to Gaunt's shack. It was…" Harry shuttered and Draco shifted closer, but Harry straightened and smiled slightly. "We found one, Draco. Found one of Voldemort's Horcruxes."

He blinked, then stared while Dumbledore carefully unwrapped something from the insulating silk. As soon as he freed the object, a heavy shutter rolled through Draco. Whatever the glint of gold belonged to, it felt _wrong._ Off. Unnatural. 

The way the Arch had felt when Draco had encountered it while saving Sirius. Incacha had called it an abomination. That's exactly what this felt like. 

He moved closer, standing next to Dumbledore, and stared down at the ring. Then he closed his eyes and let his sight slide into his other vision.

His frowned deepened and he shook his head.

"That's not a Horcrux."

"What?" Harry moved to his side in an instant. "But… It has to be. Why else would he have gone to the trouble to hide it? To protect it? To curse it?"

"I don't mean…" His vision snapped back into normal and he shrugged. "It's definitely _something._ And, whatever it is, it's not right."

"What are you seeing, Draco?" Dumbledore asked calmly, but a hint of concern tightened the skin around his eyes.

"Well, in a Horcrux, the piece of soul is supposed to be trapped _in_ the physical object, right?"

"That is what the information I've encountered says, yes. Are you saying there is no soul-piece in the ring?"

"Not… exactly. It's acting more like an anchor. And a portal to another plane. I can't tell which one without following it."

Harry wrapped tight fingers around Draco's wrist and Draco couldn't help the faint smirk. His Sentinel's over-protectiveness and possessiveness could be both endearing and frustrating. At the moment, in the bleak, foreboding atmosphere around him, Draco was definitely glad to have Harry's strength to lean into.

"I don't think that is necessary at this time." Dumbledore's sharp eyes missed none of their momentary interaction. He tapped his nose thoughtfully. "So, Tom used what he learned of Horcrux magic combined with corrupted Astral magic to protect the pieces of his soul even further."

Harry stared hard at the ring, and, for half a second, Draco was afraid he was going to zone. Then he sighed and shook his head. "What will happen if we destroy this?"

Draco looked at it and tried to sort through everything he'd learned in the past year. But this wasn't like anything he'd encountered. 

"I have no idea. I'm pretty sure it wouldn't destroy the soul-piece, though." His shoulders lifted in a helpless shrug. "It could make it impossible to find on the other plain, however."

"The diary?" Harry's eyes flew to Dumbledore, who looked just as stunned and concerned. 

"I'll retrieve it. Wait here," the headmaster ordered and headed out the door.

Draco turned back to Harry and raised an eyebrow. "The diary?"

Harry blushed and ducked his head. "Uh, yeah, I guess I never told you about the Chamber of Secrets, huh?"

"No."

Harry gave him what sounded like it might be an edited version of the story and Draco began to understand why they'd never talked about it. His father was a very sore subject for Draco. He could feel his lips peeling into a snarl and his face tightening in disgust while he listened. The worst part was, if he'd been aware of the details in second year, he probably would have been proud of Lucius.

When he was done, Harry fell silent, but he stepped close and wrapped his arms around Draco. 

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered in his ear.

"Not your fault." 

Still Draco, clung for a second or two longer. He missed his family, missed the simplicity of his life. His point of view had changed a great deal in the past year, and he didn't regret it. Sometimes, though… 

"So, since Tom's soul came through the diary, Dumbledore was certain it was a Horcrux," Harry spoke again, but continued to hold on.

"And you destroyed it with the basilisk fang. Now you're worried we won't be able to get to the soul-piece to destroy it."

"Yeah."

They lapsed into silence and just clung to each other until the sound of Dumbledore climbing the stairs forced them to reluctantly separate.

Draco warily accepted the diary from Dumbledore, trusting him that the danger had been removed by the gaping hole in the center of it. Once again, he let his vision shift to clearly see.

"The portal is damaged, but it is still an anchor," he murmured, exploring the nuances of the magic that remained. "The connection is still there. I can follow it."

"No." 

Harry's denial rang sharp and clear, pulling Draco's attention back to the physical plane. 

"Not now. We don't know enough yet to risk you." Harry's hand covered Draco's gently where it held the book. "And you definitely need to talk about this with Incacha before we do anything."

"But we're not going back until October," he whined.

Both Draco and Remus were returning to Hogwarts and it had been decided that the lessons could wait a few weeks to resume.

"We have time yet," Dumbledore finally cut in. "We still have four more to find, whatever these things are that Voldemort has created. Besides, you boys have a busy day tomorrow. It's best that you get some rest."

#

Sirius lay in his bed unable to sleep. The room felt wrong around him, surrounded by Regulus's treasures instead of his own. The green and silver were an affront to his vision but he couldn't make himself paint over it the way he'd blotted out the family motto. He and Regulus may have ended up on opposite sides, but Sirius couldn't bring himself to erase the last reminders of his brother that remained in the house.

Sometimes, he wondered if his own rebellion had led to Reg trying so hard to be the perfect Slytherin. The perfect Black. If his choices had led directly to his little brother joining Voldemort. And how much of that had led to his death.

So many mistakes. His entire life had been one impetuous choice after another and it had lost him everything. His best friend. His opportunity to be Harry's godfather. Even his life, for awhile.

He had a second chance, and here he was stuck in another prison. One made of memories and his own frustration. 

Tomorrow, it was going to get worse. Everyone would be leaving, again. 

He'd have no one but Kreacher to talk to and he was sure it would drive him mad. But he'd promised himself, and everyone else, he wouldn't act on impulse and frustration any more. 

With all the mistakes he'd made, he'd been given second chance after second chance and still he'd squandered them. This time, he'd find a way to stay productive. Useful.

No matter what Snape said.

Unable to sleep, he slid out of bed and wandered over to the bookshelves that once belonged to his brother. Perhaps Regulus had left something behind that might help them bring down Voldemort once and for all.

#

_ The fox loped through the blue-tinged trees, listening to the sounds of the forest around him. _

_ Something drew him on, called him forward to see what sight alone couldn't show him. _

_ When he got to the lake, he was unsurprised to find his reflection showed, not pointed ears and red fur, but blond hair and a very human face. On the spiritual plane, Draco and the fox were one as often as they were separate. _

_ He didn't expect the reflection to shift, however. To age and grow until his father's disapproving eyes glared up at him from the shimmering waters. _

_ "You've chosen your path, then, son?" His voice was sharp, angry and disappointed.  _

_ For a second, Draco's resolve shivered under the onslaught of his father's disapproval. But he dwelt in the fox and nothing and no one could make him second guess the place he'd accepted as his own. _

_ "I have, father." _

_ "You chose Potter. And Dumbledore. You are no son of mine." _

_ The words were a deep, painful slice. A final severing of everything he'd once held dear. He'd expected it. Yet it left an empty place where he'd held on to a fragment of hope. _

_ Lucius snarled. "You've chosen the wrong side, Draco. You will fail." _

_ The water swirled, a dark, violent vortex sweeping away the last of his past and the fox yowled in pain. _

__

Draco woke with a start, heart hammering in his ears. Harry, still asleep, rolled over to plaster himself against Draco's side.

Several, deep gulping breaths later, Draco managed to get his heart back under control before it woke Harry. The first hints of false dawn crawled through the window, telling him he had a couple more hours to sleep.

The dream had made sure that wasn't going to happen, however. It seemed straight-forward enough, but these dreams were never simple. 

No matter what he'd said, he'd always hoped, somehow, his old life and his new one could merge.

The dream was telling him it was time to stand firmly on one side or the other. That there was a part of him that was still Lucius's son. If they were going to succeed, he'd have to excise that part from his heart.

He should talk about the dream with Harry. Or Remus. Or Snape.

But he wouldn't. He couldn't.

He'd mourn in private, until his shamanic magic forced him to share it. 

#

Harry dropped into his seat on the Hogwarts Express with a relieved sigh and Draco settled next to him, echoing the long exhale. Across from them Neville slumped, looking pale and exhausted.

The morning head been hectic and heart-wrenching. All the last minute packing, searching out stuff that had gotten misplaced over the summer, and general chaos of choosing what to take and what to leave.

Then, the ache of saying goodbye to Sirius while holding off the tears. He'd seen his godfather every day since Draco had brought him back from the land of the dead. Some superstitious part of Harry feared he might disappear again if he wasn't somewhere Harry could talk to him at a moment's notice. 

Then had been the hectic rush of King's Cross Station and trying to get Neville through the chaos without zoning out or collapsing.

All in all, Harry was glad for the quiet surrounding the three of them. He was looking forward to seeing his friends again, but he was happy to have a reprieve before they tumbled in. Hermione, of course, had been chosen Head Girl and took the responsibility very seriously. She'd been a little disappointed Ernie Macmillan was chosen Head Boy over Ron, but Ron had been relieved. Being Prefect was still a little more authority than he was comfortable wielding. They both would be in and out, as their duties allowed.

Ginny had disappeared, again, almost as soon as they'd gotten on the train. She'd been going off by herself a lot since the end of the previous school year. Ron thought she had a secret boyfriend she was writing letters to. Hermione thought she was studying to get a head start on her NEWTs. Harry just thought she probably wanted some privacy for a change. There was very little at the Burrow and even less to be found when the Weasleys stayed at Grimmauld place.

Next to him, Draco sat with rigid posture, eyes glued on the unmoving view of the station. The link between them had been quiet all morning and it was starting to make Harry uneasy.

"Draco, what's wrong?"

Draco stiffened, inching slightly away and continued to stare out the window. 

"What makes you think anything is wrong, Potter?" 

His voice was clipped and cold, more reminiscent of the Malfoy who'd rather push him down the stairs than the Draco who'd slept next to him every night for the past couple of months.

Maybe that was the problem. They were headed back to Hogwarts. Where their time together would be limited. Where Draco would be surrounded by former friends who hated his guts and former enemies who didn't quite trust him.

"It's going to be better this year, you know. I mean, not so much with the Slytherins, but the rest of the school has gotten use to us being together. They know you played an important part in saving Hogwarts from the Death Eaters."

Draco sighed and relaxed a little, allowing himself to lean into Harry. "I know."

While his Guide looked more at ease, tension still vibrated along his skin and his heartbeat hit a little too hard, a little fast. Banked pain and old fears hummed along their bond, despite Draco's efforts to hold it back.

With a sigh, Draco slid his fingers through Harry's and squeezed. "I had a dream last night. I'm not ready to talk about it, yet. Just let it go, for now, all right?"

Reluctantly, Harry nodded. His instincts screamed to protect the Guide from whatever upset him. The possessive nature insisted Draco share everything. They were a team, partners, unbreakable. 

Sometimes that could be overwhelming, though, even for Harry. He understood the need to step back and breathe a little. So he ignored the sliver of rejection lodged in his chest and squeezed Draco's fingers in silent acceptance. 

"Okay. For now."

Glancing around for a distraction, Harry noticed the way Neville slid down farther in his seat, the hunch even more pronounced while he cradled his head in his hands. 

"Neville, are you doing all right?"

Slowly pulling his fingers away from his face, Neville blinked blearily back at Harry. "I think I can smell every flavor of Bertie Bott's. All at once."

His voice cracked when he spoke and Harry heard the pain and the fear threatening to boil over.

"Okay, Neville," Draco murmured, getting up to kneel in front of the distressed Sentinel. "Take a slow breath through pursed lips and start filtering scent. Focus on one at a time, note it and file it away. Just like we practiced."

Harry wanted to snarl when Draco took hold of Neville's wrists. Coming so close on the heels of his Guide's withdrawal, it felt like a threat to their bond, even though he knew better.

Draco turned his head just enough to roll his eyes at Harry before focusing back on the task at hand. Through their bond though, Harry felt a wave of reassurance and love and the distance between them disappeared. Calmer, Harry moved to sit at Neville's side to help him through it, as well.

#

The rest of the ride was relatively normal. Neville regained control and, thought he continued to look wan and tense, he no longer looked in imminent danger of collapse. Hermione and Ron popped in and out. Ginny eventually found them, with Luna in tow and they settled into comfortable, familiar conversation.

The carriages waited for them and the usual chaos surrounded them when they got off the train. First years trying to figure out what to do, students juggling their belongings and jostling for the closest carriages, every one babbling with excitement. 

Harry was startled when the voice calling for first years was familiar, if different than what he'd come to expect. Dumbledore had told him Hagrid wouldn't be there for the start of the semester. Another abrupt change in the leadership of the Giants led to them withdrawing from Voldemort's ranks. Hagrid had gone to try to negotiate with them once again. The Headmaster, however, had never mentioned exactly who would be substituting for the gamekeeper in his absence.

"Charlie?" Ron shouted, eyes bulging when he twisted around to catch sight of his brother. "What are you doing here?"

"What's it look like? I'm the Care of Magical Creatures teacher while Hagrid is… on sabbatical." 

"But… but…"

"Really Ron, you sound like the Muggle motor-boat engine Dad tried to figure out the summer before my fifth year. How are the first-years ever going to take you seriously?" 

Before Ron could respond, Charlie hugged Ginny and greeted everyone in turn, stopping to frown at Neville. "Is he okay?"

Harry turned and realized Neville stood stone-still, eyes wide and unblinking. "Oh, no."

"He's fine," Hermione assured Charlie with false cheer, moving to block everyone's view of the catatonic Gryffindor. "Someone slipped him one of your brothers' Wheezes, it should where off in no time."

Charlie didn't look convinced but Hermione shooed them all along, before anyone else could even react to protect Neville's secret.

"Really have to get going. Don't want to be late for the Sorting. Wouldn't do for the Head Girl and one of the Prefects to be tardy," Hermione continued to talk while she walked backwards, obscuring the view while Harry and Ron got Neville into one of the carriages.

Once shut inside, they all sighed with relief. Nothing any of them tried brought Neville around, though. 


	2. Chapter 2

Neville floated up from the darkness with a groan. Before he even opened his eyes, he recognized the feel and scent of Draco on his left, long fingers wrapped around his wrist, and Hermione on his right, gently rubbing his arm from elbow to shoulder.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" Harry's voice was soft and his face swam slowly into focus when Neville forced his eyes open. Beyond him, Ron and Ginny hovered uncertainly at the foot of Neville's bed.

"Fuzzy," Neville managed to push the word past parched lips and Harry pressed a straw to his mouth, fresh water at the ready. 

"Yeah, that happens. Do you remember what you zoned on?"

For a second, Neville's mind went blank when he tried to remember what happened after he'd gotten off the train.

_ Rich laugh, handsome face, scent of leather and flames and licorice. _

"I think… it was the noise. The water lapping on the shore maybe. It was soothing, at first, to ignore the voices and chatter. And then… I got lost, I guess."

Harry frowned at him, like he knew there was more than what Neville was saying, but he didn't want to ask any questions.

"Well, you're better now." Hermione patted him on the shoulder. "But Madam Pomfrey wants you to stay overnight, just in case. She's worried the uproar and hubbub of the Welcoming Feast and the Sorting Ceremony might be too much, too soon, after the quiet of Gr… Headquarters. Don't worry. We'll stay with you, though."

"We will?" Ron blurted out in surprise and received an elbow to his stomach for it.

"Of course, we will. Nobody wants to be alone on their first night back."

Neville panicked a little. He really did want to be alone. He didn't want to face questions or the chance that the perceptive Sentinel and Guide at his bedside would pick up more than he wanted them to.

"No really, you guys shouldn't miss it on my account. I'm probably just going to sleep, anyway. You should go."

It took some doing, but eventually he convinced them he felt fine and they should go enjoy the Welcoming Feast. Or, perhaps, it was the loud, demanding rumble from Ron's stomach that convinced them.

Either way, once alone in the hospital wing, he flopped back onto the bed and finally forced his muscles to relax.

Because he'd been lying. And his friends knew him well enough to figure it out. He needed the time to fortify himself and hide the knowledge deep within.

The knowledge that Charlie Weasley was his Guide. 

Not just compatible. Charlie was someone like Draco was to Harry. A true key to his lock.

The moment he'd heard the voice, the laugh, the very second he'd seen the handsome man, he'd felt it. An electric focus that centered him all at once. His senses had snapped into perfect alignment in a way they hadn't since he'd faced the Death Eaters by the Whomping Willow.

He'd wanted to reach out. To touch. To wrap himself around the Charlie the way Ginny had hugged her brother.

To keep himself in check, Neville had pushed his senses to the limit, much farther than he'd ever been able to push them before, and deliberately zoned out.

Because he never intended to tell anyone Charlie Weasley was his Guide.

He knew the family well. Honor, integrity, duty. Model Gryffindors. Charlie would do the right thing, no matter how much it cost him. Being tied to Neville Longbottom would cost him a lot.

He'd heard enough from Ron over the years to know how much Charlie loved his job in Romania working with the dragons. He wouldn't want to give it up to babysit Neville. That he was here, now, no doubt had something to do with the Order. But he'd be going back, eventually.

It was one thing to be a Guide for the Boy-Who-Lived. Something completely different to be saddled with the Boy-Most-Likely-To-Trip-Over-His-Own-Feet.

So Neville would avoid him. Which shouldn't be too hard. He'd given up Care of Magical Creatures after fifth year and he had no reason to be out on the grounds, beyond the greenhouses, anyway. He'd just have to deal with him at meals, when there'd be plenty of distraction. 

Resolved, Neville ignored the needy pleading of his heart and rolled over, hoping for the oblivion of sleep.

It was a long time coming, however.

#

Three weeks into the term, Draco had settled back into the rhythm of school, and so far, had kept Harry's concern at bay. It was getting more and more difficult, however. His Sentinel hovered around him like a mother hen. 

Draco glanced down at his plate and sighed when he saw Harry had loaded it up with food while he'd been lost in thought, ignoring his dinner. As if an extra roll and more of his favorite foods would ease him. And yet, it did. He'd lost one family, yet, despite his best efforts to remain aloof, he'd found another in Harry and the menagerie he collected around him.

Snape swooped through the door near the end of the meal. His usual sneer of disdain was firmly in place, but the lines around his eyes were tight and he didn't slow down until he stood next to the headmaster.

A brief, tense conversation followed then both men left, trailed quickly by McGonagall and Lupin. Harry's face pinched and Draco felt concern and anger vibrating from him.

"Did you hear what he said?" Draco murmured, soft enough only Harry and Neville might here.

Harry's eyes snapped back from where they'd followed the group out of the Great Hall. His lips pressed so tight, the skin around them turned white. He ducked his head in an abrupt nod then whispered, "Until Snape cast a silencing spell."

Draco pushed his plate away and looked at Harry, feeling the thrum of impatience coming off his Sentinel. "Well, I'm done with dinner. Shall we go?"

Harry was on his feet before Draco finished asking. Ron started to get up, as well, but Hermione grabbed him and pulled him down. They were still hissing at each other about whether or not he'd be a hindrance when Draco and Harry walked out of the room, forcing them to keep a sedate pace until they were out of sight.

Then Harry picked up speed, cursing creatively as they headed toward the headmaster's office. 

"Harry, what's going on? What did you hear?" 

For a second, the anger completely drained away from Harry's face and he went a little pale. 

"Harry?"

He sighed and kept moving forward, not looking at Draco while he walked. "The Ministry's been keeping secrets again. Several prisoners escaped from Azkaban a week ago."

A complicated storm of conflicting emotions washed through Draco. His father. Who he loved and hated. Who he feared and missed. 

Before he could reconcile his see-sawing emotions to ask who, exactly, had escaped, they nearly ran into McGonagall, standing sternly next to the gargoyle. Arms crossed, she frowned at them but without the usual fierceness.

"I expected you'd take a few more minutes to end up where you weren't invited. Well, at least I don't have to run off your usual entourage this time." She turned to the gargoyle, looking disgruntled when she snapped out the password. "Jelly Slugs."

Dumbledore sat behind his desk, Lupin fidgeted in a chair next to him, and Snape, radiating fury, paced between the fireplace and Dumbledore. He paused when Harry, Draco and McGonagall entered and grumbled.

Draco knew he should keep his mouth shut and wait but he couldn't put a lid on his desperate curiosity. "What happened? Was there really a break-out at Azkaban?"

Harry stepped up behind him, calming hand settling on his shoulder, strong chest brushing against Draco's back.

Snape sighed and scowled, resuming his pacing. "The Death Eaters were called together last night and You-Know-Who revealed the Dementors left the prison a week ago. They brought several of his favorite Death Eaters with them."

Draco felt his face cooling as the blood drained out of it. Harry moved in closer and he let himself sink back into the support. "My father?"

"Is once again standing at the Dark Lord's right hand." Snape didn't look at him when he spoke.

"Does he know?" Draco couldn't bring himself to elaborate but everyone in the room knew he was asking if Lucius knew he'd betrayed the family name.

"Yes, he knows you have thrown in with Dumbledore."

"Is he angry?"

Snape finally stopped moving to stare at him superciliously.

"Right," Draco murmured faintly. "Of course. He's furious."

Snape twisted his lips, considering his next words. 

"He did ask if your defection was some kind of plot, to spy on Potter and his brood." The Potion's master looked regretful. "I had to tell him that was not the case. That you gave every sign of obsequiously toadying up with Potter."

Draco closed his eyes and let his head drop back against Harry's shoulder. He knew his father's reaction was really the least of their problems but he couldn't quite fight past the cold wash of despair to more than half-listened to the conversation around him.

"What does Voldemort plan to do now?" Harry asked.

"He's being extremely secretive. He's been handing out tasks to various groups and individual and forbidding us to talk about them, even with each other."

"What's your task?"

Snape's lip curled slightly at Harry's demand, but he answered calmly. "I'm supposed to find out the entirety of the prophecy. And discover anything and everything about your wand that I can."

"My wand?" 

"He's convinced it is the wands, his and yours, that is the key to the… difficulties he's had killing you."

Draco wasn't sure how long he drifted in his own head, ignoring the discussion about Voldemort and the various possible plans he could be making. Eventually, though, Harry's arm, which had slipped around his waist at some point, tightened and shifted, guided him out of the headmaster's office.

When they found a quiet, empty hallway, Harry herded him into a corner and wrapped him a tight hug.

"Are you okay?" 

His hands carded through Draco's hair when he asked and Draco relaxed slightly. 

"Yeah, I guess." But he could feel himself start to tremble, despite his best effort to hold himself together.

"We'll protect you from him, I promise."

Draco blinked at Harry, stiffening a little. There was no doubt he was afraid of what his father might do. But he hadn't gotten to the point of being terrified. He was still at the point of realizing the finality of his choice. How completely he'd severed ties with the man who'd raised him. Who'd bought him his first wand. Who'd taught him his first hex. Who'd put him on a horse for the first time. 

The man he'd spent the majority of his life trying to emulate. 

That man would hate him now. 

It hurt. The child who loved unconditionally wept somewhere deep inside.

And Harry wasn't going to understand any of that. He'd never met the Lucius who'd tucked Draco into bed. Only the Lucius who'd tried to kill him. Who'd nearly gotten Ginny killed in the Chamber of Secrets. Who'd been present when Voldemort returned and who'd hurt so many of his friends in the Ministry.

So Draco forced a tremulous smile. "Yeah, I know. I'm good. But I have a ton of homework to do. Let's get to the library, fill in your masses of Gryffindors and get some work done so I can sleep tonight."

#

Another week past before the news broke to the rest of the Wizarding world about the prison-break. Despite the Ministry's best efforts to keep it a secret, an unnamed friend of a friend with a brother in the DMLE spilled the beans to a reporter at the Prophet. The morning the headline broke, fear permeated the Hall, along with the clamor of gossip and supposition.

In the two weeks since, fear had turned to terror and mayhem. It was as if Voldemort had been waiting for a little publicity to unleash his minions. Every day, the headlines were splashed with more horrifying and depraved acts perpetrated by the Death Eaters. An attack on Amelia Bones she'd barely escaped with her life. Several fires set at the homes of a half-blood witches and wizards. Half a dozen Muggle-borns disappeared without a trace. More and more atrocities reported every day.

Scrimgeour had been to visit Dumbledore at least three times that Harry knew of. The last time, curiosity had gotten the better of his manners and he'd eavesdropped shamelessly. The Minister had been insisting on trotting Harry out like some trained dog to reassure the populace the Ministry was doing its job. It sounded as if this wasn't the first time he'd asked. The headmaster had sent him packing quickly, just like every previous visit and Harry had sighed with relief. 

The dark mood of the school ran deep and heavy in Harry. As he read more and more about Voldemort's brutality he felt increasingly helpless. They were stymied in their attempts to find another Horcrux. Snape continued to be left in the dark about the Death Eaters movements. The Order and the Aurors chased the Death Eaters desperately but never managed to stop them or even get ahead of them.

Then there was Draco. Who continued to insist he was fine. That nothing was wrong. He still smiled and snarked and teased. But the humor never really reached his eyes. He wasn't sleeping and he pushed food around his plate more often than he ate it.

The one time Harry had tried to talk about, it had ended up in an argument about something completely unrelated and Harry still wasn't quite sure how that happened. And the worst, the absolute worst, was the way Draco had withdrawn from the bond. He barely let anything through any more and it terrified Harry in a way that even Voldemort couldn't

The last time the bond had been this tightly controlled, Draco had been sure Harry was ready to trade him in for Charlie Weasley.

Now, Draco was getting up from the table, ready to meet Remus and head out for his lesson with Incacha. 

It was important, probably the most important trip since Draco had brought Sirius back. Harry knew that, and still he couldn't help trailing after Draco and pulling him into a shadow corner of the entrance hall.

"Harry, Lupin will be here any minute," he said with a frown.

"I know. I just… Draco if I did something, I'm sorry. Just tell me, and I won't do it again."

Grey eyes widened and Draco's soft lips fell open. For a second, bright surprise flashed along their bond.

"Harry, no. It's not you." 

Long, cool fingers wrapped around the back of his neck and everything in Harry's body loosened. He shifted closer and let his forehead drop against his Guide's.

"What is it then?"

Draco's lips pursed, but before he answered, the sound of Remus's familiar stride echoed at the edges of Harry's awareness. With a sigh, Harry brushed Draco's hair off his face, then stepped back.

"We will finish this when you get back, right?" he insisted, knowing Draco well enough to know if he didn't get a promise now, the Slytherin would retreat behind his frost-covered walls again.

White teeth sank into soft lips and Draco ducked his head and answered softly. 

"Yes. We'll talk."

Harry nodded and swallowed, stepping completely away when Remus joined them. He followed them to the door and watched until they passed the gates and Disapparated. 

#

Guilt dragged at Draco, weighing on top of the anger and frustration and hurt and loss he'd been feeling 

He'd known he wasn't hiding his melancholy from Harry, but he hadn't realized his Sentinel might assume the fault. He should have known better. Harry had the damn Gryffindor hero-complex in excess. He'd want to fix things and Draco wasn't even telling him what the problem was.

How could he admit he'd been dreaming about his father for weeks. It wasn't every night, but often enough that Draco dreaded sleep. He always saw Lucius in his reflection in the water. Sometimes his father simply stared, with that angry disapproval Draco had spent his life trying to avoid. Sometimes Lucius sneered and berated. Calling him a disappointment. Warning he was doomed by his poor judgment. That he was a weak-willed failure.

He didn't know for sure if they were dreams, or _dreams,_ the kind that had meaning. Or, worst of all, the possibility his father had found a way to invade his subconscious. That Draco might be a liability to Harry and to the Order and all those who fought against Voldemort.

He'd been afraid he'd be segregated for the safety of everyone. His fear of being pushed away made him push Harry away, instead, without realizing how much damage he was doing.

When they arrived at the jungle clearing, Sirius already waited for them, looking eager and impatient. Remus joined him and they moved off with Otoronco to work on what-ever it was they did, leaving Draco alone with Incacha.

"There is much troubling you, little fox." 

The shaman voice was calm and heavy with expectation that Draco would spill his guts. 

And he did.

The dreams that had been plaguing him spilled out, along with all the fears. Fear that his father had somehow slipped into his mind and taken control, making him a threat to Harry.

Or, worse, that it wasn't his father at all. That it was one of the precognitive dreams showing him the inevitability of his returning to the Dark Lord and betraying his friends.

Incacha only nodded sagely. "Let's walk, little fox."

Draco settled into his meditation position, knowing the shaman meant a walk in the spirit plane and not a stroll in the surrounding jungle.

In the blue forest, Incacha let Draco lead the way to the lake. In the clear water, Lucius's reflection sneered up at him. Smug, expectant and disapproving.

At his side, Incacha crossed his arms, unimpressed and demanded, "Who are you?"

The reflection shivered in the water, then rose up, standing on its surface.

For a moment, it didn't answer only locked its gaze on Draco's with dark glee.

"I am you."

It shimmered and shifted as soon as it finished speaking, morphing into the warrior image of Draco.

Draco's blood ran ice-cold in his veins when he stared at the implacable doppelganger.

His worst fear stood before him. 

Despite everything, deep down, was he still truly his father's son? Was he still capable of becoming what his father had become?"

Beside him, though, Incacha nodded, a soft, knowing smile flittering around his lips.

"We are not him," the doppelganger said. "But he still shapes us. One day, we will face him. If his hand is still around our heart, we will fail."

The forest melted away and Draco was once more solid and real in his body.

"Do you understand now, little fox?"

"Yeah."

He understood too well, though he really wasn't ready to talk about it. He knew he had to deal with the part of himself still motivated by his father's smiles and frowns. The part of him that had tried to live up to his father's standard of nobility and propriety and cruelty. 

"That is not all that weighs on your mind today, is it?"

Draco blinked, disgusted with himself that, for a moment, he'd forgotten the truly important questions. As quickly and succinctly as possible, he explained about the Horcruxes.

"Is there a way to destroy the soul pieces, once we find all of them?"

Incacha shook his head gravely, and Draco's heart sank.

"Our purpose has always been to heal the soul. To protect it. A shaman does not destroy the soul, no matter how dark or broken. We only repair."

"You want me to _fix_ You-Know-Who?"

"Once the soul is complete and resides in the body, he will be fully human again. Mortal and vulnerable, as we all are."

Draco blinked at him. The idea of _healing_ Voldemort was anathema. But it also was the best chance they had. "Can you teach me how?"

"Of course. But all of the pieces must be found, recalled to the mortal plane and fused once again, before you can return the soul to the body. Our time is up for today, however, and those lessons will have to wait for another day."

#

Avoiding Charlie had been impossible. Neville's senses sought the man out constantly. His instincts steered him toward Charlie at every moment, despite his best intentions to keep his distance.

He found himself following Charlie, getting as close as he could without anyone noticing Neville was there at all. Getting his fill of the sight and sound and scent of Charlie, while reining in the instinctual demand to get close, to touch.

He felt like a stalker.

Most of the time, he didn't even mean for it to happen. Neville's intention was always to stay away, but the second he let himself relax, his senses searched, stretching out to find the heartbeat and the scent that set his body and mind at ease.

Today, he'd secluded himself in the greenhouse, enjoying the quiet, peaceful emptiness of a Saturday. The scent of green and growing things around him, the feel of earth between his fingers, grounded him for awhile.

It didn't take long, though, for the scent of leather and smoke to find him, to draw him to the glass where he watched Charlie. Humming and shirtless, sweating and smiling, the temporary Groundskeeper worked tirelessly in the vegetable patch.

Neville had no idea how long he stood there, mesmerized by the play of muscle under skin, the glint of sunlight on bright hair and the quick, easy laugh when Fang chased a rabbit through his hard work. When the sun shifted lower in the sky and Charlie finished in the garden, Fang pounced and they played and wrestle on the lawn. Without a thought, Neville moved out of the greenhouse to keep them in sight. In the shadow of the castle, he watched and longed and hoped not to be seen.

Light footsteps strolling toward Charlie made Neville tensed, body on alert and ready. Ridiculous that he automatically felt protective of Charlie. The man was older, stronger and way more capable of taking care of himself than Neville could ever hope to be. Still, his body didn't relax until he recognized Dumbledore walking across the lawn.

Neville tried hard to be polite most of the time. He did his best to keep his senses to himself, trying not to inadvertently eavesdrop or otherwise invade anyone else's privacy.

But his hearing had been extended to listen to Charlie's laugh and, as always, his senses were reluctant to let go of the little piece of his Guide he allowed himself.

"How are you settling in, Charlie?" Dumbledore asked.

"Good, so far. The teaching is more interesting than I expected." His lips lifted in a half-smile, but a hint of sadness tightened around his eyes. "Miss the dragons, though…"

"I'm sorry. Hopefully Hagrid will return soon and we can get you back to them."

"Soon would be good."

Neville's throat squeezed painfully and his fingers curled into tight fists. He knew Charlie's stint at Hogwarts was temporary. It's why he chose to keep the connection between them to himself. The reminder hurt all the same. Seeing his Guide ache to leave made him both furious and guilty that he wanted him to stay.

"I may be going away for a day or so. I just wanted to let you know Minerva is available if you have any trouble with your classes or your students. She's also in full contact with the Order."

A feeling rather than a sound stretched something in Neville, like a string wound too tight. A familiar sensation, one he always felt when Harry was near. Especially if he was close to Charlie, as well.

Neville took a deep breath and tried some of the calming exercises he'd been learning from Professor Lupin. The other Sentinel being anywhere near Charlie made Neville's common sense battle his instincts and his senses went haywire, spinning him into a spike or dropping him into a zone. He knew it was only a matter of time before someone caught on, but, for now, all he could do was hold his breath and hope Harry didn't get to close to his Guide.

#

As dinner time drew closer, Harry wandered down by the gates to Hogsmeade. He felt a little pathetic, waiting for his Guide to return, but he couldn't stay away. Something had changed, right before Draco left. Something had eased between them. 

Harry needed to know that Draco hadn't rebuilt those walls in the time they'd been apart. So he paced impatiently, forcing himself to stillness when Draco finally Apparated outside the Gate.

"So what are you doing loitering down here?" Draco's smiled with soft, silent knowledge, but he didn't stiffen or pull away when Harry wrapped him up in a hug. 

"Oh, you know, just stretching my legs…" 

"Liar," he quipped with a grin. "You were just worried your introverted Guide had crawled back into his shell while he was out of your sight."

"You didn't, did you?" 

Which was a stupid question. He could feel their bond, open and free, for the first time in weeks. 

"No. I'm sorry. I just… I was dreaming about my father and I didn't know what it meant." Draco paused, inhaled and exhaled in a slow tempo. "I thought maybe he'd found a way to get to me. To get to you. I was trying to protect you from him by shutting you out. Trying to protect you from me, in case I wasn't strong enough."

Harry laughed a little, "You, Draco Malfoy, not stubborn enough to get your own way."

The light dimmed a little in grey eyes, and Harry regretted his thoughtless comment.

"I take it Incacha reassured you it wasn't your father."

"No, it was one of those cryptic shaman things that makes you jump through hoops to figure it out. Basically, my subconscious was telling me I'm still too emotionally attached to the past and I have to find a way to let go."

He shrugged, but the bleak shadows remained in Draco's eyes and ghosted along their bond. 

"Draco, is there more to it?"

Silence hummed between them for a moment before Draco nodded, "Yeah, there was, but… I'm still… working through some of it."

"All right." He let his fingers sift through soft blond hair. "But you'll tell me the rest, when you're ready, right?"

"Right."

Harry wanted to protect his Guide, but pushing would only make Draco dig his heels in. Instead, changing the subject seemed like the better course of action.

"Did Incacha have any ideas how to destroy the pseudo-Horcruxes?"

A sigh of exasperation and an eyeroll suggested this would be another one of those things that wasn't going to be as easy as he'd hoped.

"Right, about that. Let's find Dumbledore so I only have to explain this once."

"He's over that way, talking to Charlie," Harry swallowed the laugh at the automatic sneer that crossed Draco's lips when he mentioned the substitute Groundskeeper. "Knock it off, Draco. You know you're the only Guide for me."

"I'm not in the least jealous of any Weasley." Draco tossed back his hair, striding purposely across the lawn with his head held high.

"Of course." 

This time, Harry didn't hold back the laugh that bubbled up. 

He also didn't resist the urge to tease Draco a bit, not stopping until he stood a little too close to Charlie and greeting him with a pat on the shoulder.

It wasn't Draco's irritated growl that captured his attention.

It was the pained cry breaking off into whimpering moans.

"Someone's hurt," he shouted, heading in the direction of the cries.

#

Draco chased Harry, legs already carrying him in his Sentinel's wake before his brain processed what was happening. One moment, he was attempting to squash the inappropriate jealousy that always swept through him when Charlie was near. The next, he was following Harry into the deep shadows cast by the school.

Behind them, he heard Charlie and Dumbledore keeping pace after their momentary surprise.

"Harry? What's going on? Who's hurt?"

Before he got an answer, though, Harry slowed and dropped down next to a darker shadow on the ground. It took Draco a second to realize the body, curled up in a tight fetal position and moaning pitifully, belonged to Longbottom.

"Neville?" Harry whisper, carefully not touching the distress Sentinel. "What is it? Which sense is spiking?"

Neville only whimpered in response.

Harry turned distressed eyes toward Draco. "He's spiking."

"Let me see if I can help him." 

A spike of jealousy, similar to the one Draco had felt a moment before, shivered along their bond, but Harry moved aside quickly to let Draco get closer.

Draco squeezed Harry's shoulder reassuringly and sank down to kneel next to them. Sometimes, he could get through to Neville, if he hadn't gotten too far lost in the spike. Draco carefully let his fingers rest on the bare skin of Neville's wrist and forced his voice to drop in the soothing rhythm that came automatically when he dealt with Harry.

The shaking eased, and the pitiful sounds quieted but agony was still etched in the white lines of his face and over-tensed muscles stood out starkly under Neville's skin.

"Longbottom, can you reach your dials? You have to try to turn it down." 

Again, the Sentinel didn't respond, the pain already too deep for the little comfort Draco was capable of providing him.

"We're going to have to get him to the infirmary so we can control his sensory input."

"I'll carry him."

Charlie's rich voice reminded him that the professors, momentarily forgotten, stood right behind them.

Harry stepped back but anxiously watched while Charlie knelt down to scoop up the other Sentinel. If it touch was spiking, being carried would be agony.

The second Charlie's hands touched Neville, however, the Gryffindor uncurled abruptly, only to immediately curl around the Groundskeeper. Neville's arms wrapped tight around broad shoulders, his hands touched the bare skin of Charlie's arms and shoulders reverentially, his nosed buried where neck and shoulder met, the sound of his gasping inhales loud in the quiet evening.

Shocked, Charlie cradled the Sentinel's body against his own without even seeming to realize what he was doing.

The smirk Draco flashed at Harry was automatic. "Look familiar?"

Harry smiled back, his hand reaching up to curl around the back of Draco's neck and he leaned in to sniff appreciatively. "Oh, yeah."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he watched with a satisfied air. Charlie looked up at them all with shock and confusion until he took in the similar way Harry was scenting Draco. Then a dawning understanding crept in to his eyes. When he took in the headmaster's smug expression, his confused frown quickly turned to anger.

"What the hell?" he demanded, glaring at Dumbledore with a look that could replace the Fire-Making spell. "You knew, didn't you? Why didn't you tell me?"

Neville froze in his arms before Dumbledore could reply and then began to struggle, pushing himself free of Charlie's hold. 

"I'm sorry. Sorry. Didn't want you to know. Never meant for you to find out."

He ran, faster than Draco had ever seen him move, disappearing into the school before any of them could react. Stunned, Charlie was the first to recover, pushing to his feet and chasing after Neville. 

#

Neville managed to elude Charlie inside. By the time Harry and the others caught up, he'd been standing at the base of a shifting staircase glaring with frustration. To cover more ground without raising suspicion, they'd split up to search the castle. 

After an hour though, Harry was hungry, grumpy and pessimistic. He and Draco had checked Gryffindor tower first, then the library and, eventually, every empty classroom in between without a sign of the other Sentinel.

Not that he blamed Neville. Dealing with the senses was hard enough. Everything about having a Guide just made it more and more complicated. The need for one versus the desire for independence. The fear of being alone and the fear of being rejected. 

"Poor Neville," Harry sighed, then smiled gratefully when Draco slid their fingers together, a wave of reassurance flowing between them.

"We'll find him, Harry. Then we'll get it all sorted out. Let's check your dorm again. He might have snuck back in when we weren't watching."

The tower, though was empty. Dinner had started and the rumble in Harry's stomach reminded him he'd only picked at his lunch.

Draco flopped down on the couch in the common room. "Now what? He could be anyplace in the castle and by the time we get to where he's been, he'll have moved on."

"The map!" 

How could he have forgotten the map? Dashing back up to his dorm, Harry dug it out of the trunk. Draco, followed more sedately, arrived in time to peer over his shoulder when he murmured. "I solemnly swear I am up to no good."

Beside him, Draco snorted and the map came to life in his hands. 

Most of the school was crammed into the Great Hall. A few names in the library or on the grounds. A couple of the teachers in their offices, Charlie checking the greenhouses, again, and the headmaster on the Astronomy Tower. 

But Neville's name was missing.

"That's impossible," Harry blurted.

"Well, do you think he might have left the school through one of the secret passages?"

Harry tried to remember if Neville even knew about any of the secret ways in our out of the school, but his mind was blank. 

"Or, that room where the DA met? It's not on the map."

"Of course, let's go." 

Harry rushed out of the dorm and raced to the seventh floor corridor where the trolls danced across the tapestry. Try as he might, though, the room refused to appear for him.

"I guess that answers that question. He must be in there. And he must really not want to be found."

Draco's hand rubbed between Harry's shoulder blades. "He'll come out when he's ready. And we'll be there for him."

Harry's lips quirked at the side and he couldn't help teasing his Guide. "Who would have guessed, two years ago, that Draco Malfoy would be offering Neville Longbottom support."

Draco glared and squirmed. "There's no need to tell anyone about it. I'd like to keep the shreds of my reputation."

Harry laughed and they set out to find Charlie and Dumbledore to report they thought they'd found Neville's whereabouts.


	3. Chapter 3

The four of them gathered in Dumbledore's office and one look at the bright red rage burning under Charlie's pale skin made Harry realize that was the best idea. He managed to contain his fury until the door closed firmly behind them, then he rounded on the headmaster.

"You knew, damn it." Charlie paced back and forth in front of the desk, anger bleeding out in every movement. "That's why you asked me to take over while Hagrid was gone. You knew I was a match for that poor kid."

"I thought it was a possibility, yes."

"How?" Draco blurted out, echoing Harry's own silent question. "I mean with Harry it was hit or miss. How did you know Charlie was Neville's?"

Dumbledore's gaze slid from Charlie to Harry and back again, and suddenly it was very clear.

"Because he was compatible with me?"

Charlie looked surprised and Dumbledore nodded with resignation, but it was the tensing of Draco's muscles, the flash of pain that Harry focused on.

"I'm sorry. I never intended to tell you." Guilt and fear gnawed at his gut, but Draco smiled and moved closer.

"I knew. I felt it when you met, just like you did. But you chose me and that's all that matters." His chin jutted up and his eyes narrowed in indignation. "Besides, I'm obviously the better choice, anyway."

Harry hugged him and nuzzled into his hair, murmuring softly against his ear.

"There was never really any choice for me. It was always you. He could have helped my senses, but I would never have felt this complete."

A throat cleared and Harry eased away from Draco to meet Charlie's eyes. The redhead watched them closely, like he was trying to learn something important simply from observing them.

"What does being compatible with you have to do with Neville?"

Dumbledore pursed his lips and looked put-out, uncertain, and stubborn but Harry shrugged. "He has as much right to know as Draco. Honestly, we should have told Neville, as well."

"But it's not about Neville," Dumbledore reminded him.

"It _could_ have been," Harry insisted.

With a sigh, and looking older than usual, Dumbledore explained the prophecy to Charlie. Harry stared at the fire. Mention of the prophecy always reminded of the night he'd thought he'd lost Sirius for good. For a second, his eyes blurred with tears and he thought the fire took on the green hue of Floo powder, like the fire when Kreacher had lied to him. When he blinked the tears away, though, it was warm yellow again.

His godfather was alive, thanks to Draco. There was no point on dwelling on those memories.

"Neville and Harry seemed to be more connected than any of us believed. It seems it truly was only Voldemort's arrogance that made the difference between them. When Neville came online, I thought of you first. The only other person who had any effect on Harry's senses at all."

_"_ How did you know? I didn't tell anyone."

Dumbledore just gave him that mysterious smile and Harry was ready to shout his frustration but Charlie beat him to it.

"If you knew, if you were so sure, why didn't you tell me? Neville has been suffering and I could have helped him."

"Harry and Draco found each other without interference. And some research Miss Granger dug up suggested the best course of action was to let a pair find their way to each other. I had intended to tell you, if your paths did not cross. When he reacted to meeting you by zoning out, I wasn't sure what it meant. When he said nothing and didn't seem to react to you at all, after that, I assumed I had been mistaken. There was no point revealing anything, after that." Dumbledore sighed, his head drooping forward. "It never occurred to me he would keep it a secret.

"Why? Why would he, when I can help him?"

Charlie finally stopped pacing and dropped into a chair.

"It's a lot to ask of somebody," Harry murmured, looking down where his hand twined with Draco's. "It's terrifying to feel dependent on someone you barely know. To expect them to become that important a piece of your life. To ask them to compromise their life, because you can't do it alone. It's a lot."

Draco squeezed his fingers reassuringly and Harry looked up to meet Charlie's eyes.

"Especially if that someone is only here temporarily."

Charlie's eyes went wide, and his mouth worked for a second, but all that came out was a soft, "Oh."

"Yeah. All we can do is give Neville a little space. Draco and I will be happy to talk to you. And Snape, Remus and Hermione probably know more of the history and theory." Draco nudged his shoulder and glanced significantly at the headmaster. "But, uh, Draco and I have something we need to tell Dumbledore in private, first. Maybe we could talk later?"

"Yes, please, I think I need to know a lot more than the fifteen minute explanation I got when I came home for Christmas last year."

The dark look Charlie gave Dumbledore before he left the office made I clear he was still deeply unhappy with the headmaster.

Once Charlie was gone, Harry settled back and listened with growing incredulity while Draco explained what Incacha had told him.

Harry leaned forward when Draco was done, still not quite sure he'd heard his Guide correctly.

"Wait, you're telling me we have to _save Voldemort's soul_?"

_"_ I know," Draco laughed. "It sounds insane. Actually destroying a soul is anathema to Incacha. I'm not sure he'd know how, even if it was something he'd be willing to teach me. Once we reconstruct the pieces, returning it to his body is going to weaken him, which should make killing him easier."

"So, step one, get the rest of the pieces and let you put them back together. Then we just have to figure out how to get close enough to stick'em back in."

Harry knew his tone was a little sharp with pessimism, but he felt like they were still spinning their wheels. He scrubbed his hand over his face then looked up at Dumbledore. "Have you found any more leads?"

The headmaster's face went blank, and, for a moment, Harry thought he was about to be lied to. But Dumbledore's shoulders sagged and he nodded slightly. "There is… something I'm looking into. I don't know if I can trust the source, however."

After that, there was little left to say and Harry wanted to sneak down to the kitchens to beg something from the House Elves, since they'd missed dinner. Halfway down the stairs, Harry thought he heard voices coming from office above them. When he extended his hearing, though, he encountered nothing but silence. Realizing he was being rude, Harry reined in his senses.

At the bottom of the stairs, Charlie waited for them. "Tell me everything I need to know about Sentinels and Guides."

Harry swallowed a groan, letting Draco start while he led them to the painting of fruit and whatever food they could scrape together there.

#

Neville huddled near a large cabinet, curling as small as possible among the centuries of discarded items. The smells of so much packed into one tiny place overwhelmed him and he was sure something had died nearby. With careful, deliberate practice, he managed to filter out most of the scents, but the stench of decay mingled with something coppery refused to be ignored. Still, working with his senses distracted him from the humiliation that brought him there in the first place.

He'd been so panicked when he ran, his only thought was finding somewhere to hide. Then the door to the Room of Requirement had appeared in front of him like the answer to his prayers.

He'd been sitting there for hours, trying to figure out what to do next. His Gran had been so proud when she'd found out he was a Sentinel. Nearly as proud as she'd been when he'd faced the Death Eaters at the Ministry. Running home now would mean becoming a disappointment in her eyes again. A sad, faint shadow of the hero his father had been.

But Charlie had been so angry when he realized. The emotion had burned itself into Neville's senses. He hadn't expected the man to be happy about it, but he hadn't prepared himself the scorched scent of fury or the hot flush of anger. He'd known his Guide wouldn't want him. Wouldn't want to be tied to him.

He'd known it would hurt but Neville hadn't expected it to feel like he'd lost the best part of himself. Hadn't expected to feel this hollow and alone.

He had no idea how he could stay at Hogwarts and face Charlie again. Didn't know if he'd be able to fight his senses now that he knew what it felt like to be held by those strong arms. To curl around his Guide and ground himself fully in the scent and sound and feel of the man.

No matter how long he sat in the eerie quiet, surrounded by other peoples lost treasures, no answers came to him. He knew he couldn't stay in there forever.

He'd learned to be brave, over the past couple of years. Being friends with Harry Potter made it impossible to be anything else. So he'd have to be brave and face the mess he'd made by giving in to a moment of bliss and revealing a secret he'd sworn he'd take to the grave.

Making his way slowly back toward the door, Neville just wished he knew what to say to everyone.

Especially to Charlie.

The castle hallway was dark and quiet when he finally emerged from his hiding place. Relief eased the worst of the anxiety when he realized he'd been tucked away for longer than he'd thought and the entire school was probably sound asleep. He had a reprieve until morning.

If Filch didn't catch him breaking curfew, that is.

Quiet and careful, using his senses to avoid the caretaker, Neville crept through the darkened castle. When he was nearly back to Gryffindor Tower, the soft padding of Mrs. Norris's paws made him dive behind a suit of armor. Eventually she passed from sight, and he inched his way out, keeping his ears tuned and focusing on the sound to make sure she didn't double back.

Which was why Neville didn't notice Charlie standing in the shadows, next to the Fat Lady's portrait until he stepped forward and they nearly collided.

The touch of strong hands steadying Neville felt electric through the fabric of his robe and he wanted to lean in. Instead, he took a fortifying breath and forced his body to step back.

"Neville—"

"Charlie… I mean, uh Professor Weasley… Hello."

Stupid greeting, but Neville's brain felt frozen and sluggish and he needed to interrupt before Charlie said any of the things Neville didn't want to hear. "I'm sorry. About earlier. I never meant for you to find out. I don't expect anything. Can we just pretend it never happened?"

"No, Neville," Charlie stepped forward, and he looked so serious, Neville's heart sank.

They were going to have the conversation he'd been dreading. He'd been trying to avoid this for weeks and he still wasn't prepared for it. Especially since Charlie was, once again, close enough to touch. Every instinct clamored to reach out, with hands and senses, to learn his Guide. To touch, and ground and connect.

Instead, he carefully folded his hands together, pressing them into his stomach to silence the sinking flutters, and lowered his eyes so he stared at the floor rather than his Guide.

"Why didn't you tell me weeks ago?"

The question wasn't what Neville expected. Neither was the confusion or the hurt underlying the words.

Neville couldn't help glancing up. There was no outright rejection or pity in Charlie's face. Just curiosity and contemplation.

"Because you're a Weasley," he blurted out, then winced at the look of pained shock on his Guide's face.

"You have a problem with my family?"

Neville's eyes widened and he shook his head vigorously. "No. No, not at all. I love your family. You're all so brave and honest. You all do the right thing, no matter the cost. I didn't want to cost you anything."

"Cost me?"

"I know you're eager to get back to Romania. Your dragons. Your life. And, if it meant… I'd go with you in a heartbeat."

Charlie nodded, careful and slow, he laid his hand gently on Neville's arm. Neville shivered under the touch, swaying closer before he caught himself.

"But I'd never let you," Charlie said. "You still have most of a year before you can take your N.E.W.T.s. and then you'll need to apply for a training program or an apprenticeship. I'd never let you give up your education to come watch me dodge dragon fire."

"So it's better if we don't… if I don't depend on you." Neville couldn't quite force himself to say it was better if they didn't bond, even if he knew it was true.

"What about… when Harry first came online, he couldn't function until Draco found him."

"It was different. Harry came online alone, in the woods. It was several days of being overwhelmed. No one had any real idea how to help him, even when they got him back here. I had a Sentinel and Guide to help me from the first moment. Not to mention Professor Snape, Professor Lupin and Hermione, who'd been studying and learning as much as they could about the phenomenon for the entire school year." He took a deep breath and straightened his shoulder, trying to put on his bravest face. "I can cope. I'm fine to be on my own."

"Coping isn't living."

The hand on his arm tightened when Charlie stepped in closer and Neville could no longer ignore his instincts. He closed the last inch of space between them, head settling against the wide chest. He listened to Charlie's heartbeat, felt his breath and his warmth. Inhaled the smoky, earthy scent.

When strong arms wrapped tight around Neville, he knew he couldn't fight anymore.

"I'm here, now. I'll be here until Hagrid gets back. I'd like to help you, while I can."

"We'd have to be careful," Neville murmured, hating himself for being weak, but still trying to protect Charlie. "We can't bond. You need to be free when it's time for you to leave."

"We'll see."

Neville heard the barely whispered words, but was too lost in the relief to argue.

#

Draco rubbed at his gritty eyes and did his best to ignore the cheery hum of breakfast conversation rumbling through the Great Hall. The night had been long. First, they'd spent a couple of hours in the kitchens, giving Charlie the abbreviated version of 'How to Be a Guide to a Stubborn Gryffindor.' Then Harry had dragged him into the Gryffindor common room to share the information about the Horcruxes and Neville with Hermione and Ron. By the time he'd escaped the repetitive rehashing of everything they knew, it had been incredibly late. He'd had to borrow Harry's invisibility cloak to sneak back to his room. Alone. Even after a month back at Hogwarts, Draco still hadn't gotten used to sleeping by himself.

"I wonder where the Headmaster is?"

Hermione's not-subtle whisper had Draco blinking up at the High Table. He hadn't even noticed the empty spot in the middle. Of course, he'd been trying not to look in that direction to avoid the embarrassing scene of Charlie and Neville, taking turns staring when the other wasn't looking.

"Huh," he muttered.

"I wonder if he went looking for… what we asked about last night?" Harry whisper, leaning close and Draco couldn't help pressing his shoulder into the solid strength of his Sentinel.

Hermione's pursed-lipped glare made Harry hunch and look around guiltily, even though no one could possibly guess what he was talking about. Draco just rolled his eyes and munched on his last slice of bacon. The sound of flapping wings filled the Great Hall when a multitude of owls delivered the morning mail.

Hermione unrolled her copy of the Daily Prophet and gave out a startle gasp. "Oh, no."

"What? What is it?" Harry asked.

Draco tensed, but kept silent. He lived in fear that one of these days, it would be his father on the cover, responsible for some horrendous act.

Hermione didn't answer, just flipped the paper around to show the huge headline.

**Death Eaters Terrorize Diagon Alley!**

Below the large print, several pictures showed buildings vandalized, windows broken, doors and signs hanging by a thread or completely ripped off, witches and wizards being treated by mediwizards.

Underneath the graphic another, only slightly smaller, headline gleefully proclaimed more tragic news.

**Garrick Ollivander and Florean Fortescue Abducted!**

Harry opened his mouth, but this time Draco didn't wait for Hermione to hiss, he elbowed the impatient Gryffindor. Harry glared at him but settled back and waited until they could leave the breakfast table without drawing attention.

They used the unseasonably warm October to take a seemingly aimless Sunday morning stroll down to the lake, well away from prying ears.

It didn't really surprise Draco when Charlie caught up with them.

"Why would he kidnap Ollivander and Fortescue?" Harry asked, once they were far enough away to be sure no one would overhear.

"Well, you remember what you told us Snape said. That he's supposed to find out everything he can about your wand."

Draco hadn't paid much attention after finding out about his father's escape but things were beginning to fall into place. "You-Know-Who thinks something about the wands, yours and his, is the reason he can't seem to kill you. Ollivander is an expert on wands. He's hoping to find some way to kill you, once and for all."

He edged closer to Harry, trying to keep his fear from swallowing him.

"Okay but why Fortescue?" Ron asked. "Does he think Harry's secret weakness is ice cream?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Ron," Hermione said with a fierce frown. But she continued to scowl when she couldn't think of a reason.

"He knows a lot about history," Harry said. "He helped me with my History of Magic essay the summer before third year."

"So maybe You-Know-Who thinks he knows something important."

"Yes, but what?"

The sharp crack of Apparition startled them all. Before Draco could pull his wand, he recognized Dobby and, behind him, the creepy, angry little House elf that belonged to Sirius.

"Harry Potter, sir. You must go to the Astronomy Tower. Right away." The elf was more agitated than usual. "Master Dumbledore, needs you now."

"Dobby, what's wrong? What's going on? What does the Headmaster need?"

"No time, no time. You have to go. We have to get Snape." Dobby made shooing motions.

Behind him Kreacher muttered. "Blood traitors and Mud-bloods. It won't matter. They can't help-"

"You hush," Dobby rounded on Kreacher, then looked back at their little group. "You must go, now. Is important."

Then the two Disapparated with another loud crack.

#

Harry was the first up to the Astronomy Tower and he stumbled a little at the sight that met him.

Dumbledore lay stretched out on the ground, moaning pitifully, body twitching and writhing uncontrollably. Sirius knelt next to him, hands frantically trying to sooth and keep the old man from harming himself with his flailing. A few feet away, two brooms sat discarded in the dust.

"Sirius?" Harry's voice was scratchy with disbelief and too many questions trying to force themselves out all at once. "What happened? Why are you here? What's wrong with Dumbledore? Are you okay?"

Sirius stared up at them, eyes wild and glazed. He looked like the feral fugitive photos the Ministry had distributed in third year.

"He made me promise. Made me give an oath to obey him, no matter what. I didn't know… I thought it was because I'm impulsive. But he didn't… He knew. Or guessed. He ordered me to make him drink it all…"

Sirius continued to babble, looking horrified and shell-shocked. Harry glanced at the others to see if any of them understood, but they all looked as clueless as he felt.

Finally, Hermione stepped forward, all Head Girl authority. "Someone should go get Pomfrey—"

"No!" Sirius shook his head violently, startling them. "He said to tell Snape and Lupin only. McGonagall if she… if she had take over Headmaster duties."

Snape swept through the door, bagful of potions in hand, and dropped down next to Dumbledore across from where Sirius was still kneeling.

"What happened?"

"He… he drank a potion," Sirius's voice hitched on the final word. Guilt covered his features and his shoulders slumped in despair.

_"…He ordered me to make him drink it all…"_ The incoherent rambling from earlier came back to Harry, making him wonder exactly what the two of them had been up too.

"What kind of potion?" Snape snapped.

"I don't know. I didn't recognize. It was green and glowing. Dumbledore said it couldn't be penetrated or removed or Transfigured. When he drank it…" Again, his voice caught and he had to take a lungful of air to calm himself before he continued. "When he drank it, he screamed. He _saw_ things. I don't know what."

"Where were you? Why would he drink it if he knew what it was?"

Sirius shook his head, guilt and regret etched deep lines in his face, tears running down his cheeks now. "I can't tell you. He swore me to secrecy."

"Even this? Surely you can tell me when his life hangs in the balance?"

"Especially this. I didn't know what he was asking when he made me promise, but he did. He knew it would come to this and he made take an oath."

"Of course he did," Snape muttered. "Cagey old man, keeping his secrets even when his life hangs in the balance. Fine, tell me every detail you can remember about his reactions to the potion."

When Sirius described the ordeal Dumbledore endured, Harry had to turn his head. Had to try to block out the words. Draco's hand braced against the small of his back, then started stroking soothing circles.

Harry's heart thundered in his chest and he watched helplessly. This was his fault. He'd pushed about the Horcruxes and Dumbledore had gone after one. That could be the only reason he put his life on the line.

"Stop it, Harry."

The anger and command in Draco's whisper surprised him and he glanced up, wide eyed.

"Stop blaming yourself. You heard Sirius. Dumbledore knew what he was doing before he did it. You-Know-Who is the sick fuck who likes to torture people this way. If he got what we think he got, he'd say it was worth it. Now we do what we can to help get him well." Draco squeezed his eyes closed and swayed closer to Harry. "Or, barring that, we avenge him."

"Remus," Snape's command drew their attention back to where Sirius had fallen silent and Snape rummaged in his bag for various vials. "Run to my office and get me the crimson potion from the locked cabinet, the key is in my copy of _Asiatic Anti-Venoms_. Sirius, open his mouth and hold it steady. Someone hold his arms and legs still."

Harry moved immediately, settling above the Headmaster and gripping his wrists to keep him from thrashing. Charlie took care of his legs, while Sirius pried open the clenched jaw.

It seemed an eternity, watching Snape pour vial after vial into Dumbledore. Eventually, a gasping Remus returned and handed him the deep red potion. He pulled the stopper on it, but a soft cry drew all eyes upward to where Fawkes soared over head. The phoenix circled twice before landing heavily on Harry's shoulder.

Snape watched the magical bird while he poured the contents of the bottle into the Headmaster's mouth. As soon as he finished, Fawkes leaned forward and a single, crystal clear tear followed the potions onto Dumbledore's tongue.

Seconds later, the thrashing stopped and Dumbledore's body relaxed. His color returned and he began to breathe even and easy. The rest of them gathered on the Tower followed suit, relieved exhales sounding all around Harry.

"You did it, right?" Harry couldn't help asking. "You saved him."

Snape's faced pinched. "The potions stopped the progression of the curse. Fawkes healed his body, but the potion affects the mind, as well. Right now, he's like an empty shell. I'll need to research to find a potion or spell that will bring him back to consciousness."

"What will we do with him until then?" Hermione asked. "We can't let Voldemort or the Ministry know what's happened."

"For now, we'll take him back to Grimmauld Place. Minerva can cover his absence for a time."

#

Neville felt the adrenaline run out as soon as Harry, Draco, Snape and Lupin disappeared with Dumbledore through the secret passage behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy. The fifth floor hallway where he'd been acting as look out was freezing and the cold had seeped into his bones while he played lookout for the others.

Shivers rattled through him and he wrapped his arms around his chest, trying to stop the shaking. He should just head back to Gryffindor Tower now that Dumbledore was safely on his way to Grimmauld Place. Instead he lingered, a ridiculous part of him hoping Harry would pop back any second to tell him it was a mistake. That, somehow, Dumbledore was fine. That there was some hope left.

"Are you okay?"

Neville jumped at the sound of Charlie's voice, low and soft right behind his ear. He'd been so lost in his thoughts he hadn't heard his… hadn't heard Charlie coming. He turned slowly, arms tightening around himself.

"Yeah. Just… Dumbledore…" Neville couldn't quite spit out any of the words rolling around in his head.

"I know. He's always seemed invincible to me, too. It's kind of frightening." Charlie's hand slid onto Neville's shoulders, pulling him into a tight hug.

Neville let himself melt against the solid wall of muscle. Sank his senses one by one into his Guide until he felt steady once again. Warm hands, intense smell, strong chest.

But Charlie's breathing pattern was off. Tight, restrained, uncertain. His body was tense and stiff and wary.

Neville squeezed his eyes tight, swallowed against the sour taste of regret. How could he let himself forget, even for a moment, that this wasn't what Charlie wanted?

Selfishly, Neville took a minute, letting himself absorb the strength and pleasure of being wrapped up and surrounded by the essence of Charlie Weasley. When he couldn't justify staying still any longer, he forced a smile and stepped away.

"I'm good now, thanks. I should go…" he tilted his head toward the stairs vaguely, unable to think of anywhere he needed to be. Anyplace he wanted to be, other than right back where he'd been a moment before.

Charlie frowned, concern wrinkling the corner of his eyes. "Neville…"

"Really, I'm fine," Neville cut him off. He didn't want Charlie's pity. Didn't want him to feel responsible or guilty or any of those Gryffindor things that would make him feel obligated when he didn't need to be. "I have a… uh… an essay to finish. So, um, I should really go. To the library."

Charlie's jaw firmed, his lips thinning into a stubborn line and Neville was afraid he'd try to force the issue. To say all the right things and Neville would give into his own weakness. Then Charlie relaxed, stepped back and nodded.

"Okay. I'll see you later," he hesitated then smiled, but it didn't light up his eyes. "Let me know if you need _anything_ , though."

Neville watched him walk away, unable to look anywhere else until Charlie was out of sight. The sag of Charlie's shoulders had to be relief, he was sure. It couldn't be disappointment. His Guide had been uncomfortable in the embrace, Neville had felt that for sure. Still, he trudged up the stairs and let his hearing stretch back to listen to the comforting sound of Charlie's heartbeat. He couldn't help hoping maybe his Guide wasn't quite as reluctant as he'd believed.

#

It took the invisibility cloak, the Marauder Map, Charlie, Neville, Ron and Hermione playing lookout throughout the school and a lot of close calls to get Dumbledore out of Hogwarts.

Now that they'd settled the Headmaster into an upstairs bedroom of Grimmauld Place, the adrenaline was wearing off and Harry's body began to shake. He leaned back, letting the wall support him while he watched Snape and Lupin moving around the bed, studying Dumbledore, casting unfamiliar spells and murmuring words he didn't understand while they tried to figure out how to reverse the effects of the potion that cursed him.

Draco leaned into his side, hand pressed over Harry's heart and head resting on his shoulders. The scent of vanilla and cinnamon, calmed his senses, the physical touch calmed his heart and the reassurance pulsing along their bond calmed his soul.

"How are we going to win against Voldemort without Dumbledore? What do we do now?" Harry murmured into the silky blond hair.

Draco's hand pressed harder for a second and spoke softly, no one but Harry would be able to hear him. "Now? Now we find a way to get him better. We muddle through as best we can. First, though, we need to talk to your godfather and find out exactly what happened to Dumbledore. And if they found _anything._ "

Harry blinked, remembering his suspicions. Had Dumbledore managed to find a Horcrux? Or had his sacrifice been in vain?

"There's nothing we can do to help here. Let's make some tea." This time, Draco spoke loud enough for the whole room to hear.

Harry followed him to the door, pausing when he passed his godfather, whose pained gaze remained fixed on the motionless Headmaster. "Sirius, why don't you help us?"

Sirius closed his eyes, squeezing them tight for a moment before looking intently at Harry and nodding.

Once ensconced at the kitchen table with their tea and a silencing spell giving them as much privacy as possible, Harry asked, "Can you tell _us_ where you went with Dumbledore?"

"You, yes. He said to tell you…" Sirius glanced at Draco then raised an eyebrow at Harry in silent question.

"Draco knows everything I know."

"Right. We went to a cave near the seaside." He took a deep breath and frowned down at his tea. "We were searching for Voldemort's Horcrux."

Harry started in surprise when he heard the word come out of his godfather's mouth. He'd suspected that Dumbledore had gone after one, but he hadn't expected the Headmaster would reveal the truth to Sirius.

"He told you about the Horcruxes?"

"Horcruxes? Plural?" Sirius shook his head. "No. _I_ told _him_ about it. I've been going through my brother's stuff. Reading his journals. He'd become disenchanted with Voldemort. Began to think for himself and realized the pure-blood spiel was nonsense and no excuse for the atrocities the Death Eaters perpetuated."

"Been there," Draco muttered.

"When Voldemort 'borrowed' Kreacher and nearly killed him, Reg was furious. He pieced it altogether and realized what Voldemort was doing. His last entry was filled with horror and disgust at what he'd aligned himself with and he was planning to destroy the Horcrux." Sirius shuddered, eyes watering. "After seeing all the defenses in the cave, I can only assume he died trying."

_Like Dumbledore nearly had._ None of them said it allowed, but Harry had no doubt they were all thinking it.

"I'm sorry, Sirius." Awkwardly, he patted his godfather's hand, wishing he knew how to be more comforting.

He smiled sadly. "He always pretended he was nothing like me. In the end though, he was as impulsive and reckless as I was."

Harry bit his lip, and waited a few minutes before finally asking, "Did you find one?"

Some of the grief lifted from Sirius's expression. He reached into his robes and pulled out something gold and glittering.

"He did it." Draco murmured, staring at the locket. "He actually did it."

But Harry frowned at it. It didn't look like the way he remembered it from the Pensieve memory. It didn't smell the way the way the ring had. It didn't have the aura, either.

He picked it up from Sirius's hand, turning it over before popping it open to find a carefully folded piece of paper.

With a sinking sensation, he unfolded it.

 

_To the Dark Lord - I know I will be dead long before you read this, but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more. - R.A.B._

_"_ Harry?" Draco's hand slipped onto his knee, squeezing until Harry released the fist he hadn't realized his fingers had curled into. "What's wrong?"

Unable to form words around the knot of disappointment in his throat, he handed the note to his Guide.

It only took a second for Draco to start swearing and pass it on to Sirius.

"So it was all for nothing." His godfather sounded lost and desperate as he stared at the paper. "Everything… Dumbledore… it was for nothing."

"Not nothing," Harry reassured. "We know it exists for sure, now. Before, it was only a theory. We just have to figure out what Regulus did with it."

"It's not here," Sirius said. "At least, not now. I've been going through everything here, everything that belonged to Regulus. I haven't seen it."

The sound of Lupin and Snape coming down the stairs stopped any more conversation and Draco quickly removed the privacy spell before it was noticed.

"…absolutely not, Remus. We've already discussed this and decided it was too dangerous."

Snape was sneering at the werewolf when they entered the kitchen, looking both worried and frustrated under his usual disdain.

"I know. But that was before. Now it's doubly important…"

"What's going on?" Harry asked, pushing to his feet. "How is the Headmaster?"

"The same. Stable but unresponsive," Snape snarled.

"And he'll stay that way until you can brew the antidote."

"You know what it is? How to help him?"

Snape glared at Remus and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yes, but there is an… ingredient that is difficult to get hold of."

"What ingredient?" Draco asked with narrow-eyed suspicion.

"Nagini's venom," Snape said, reluctance dripping from each syllable.

"Voldemort snake?" Harry couldn't help blurting out the question, but managed to stop himself from finishing the rest of his thought out loud. _The snake Dumbledore believed it was another Horcrux_.

He exchanged a disbelieving look with Draco, who asked, "The one he never lets out of his sight?"

"Yes," Lupin said. "And I might be able to get close enough to steal it."

"How?"

"Since he lost the giants, Voldemort has been trying to rally support with some other beings. Fenrir is going to take him on a tour of werewolf enclaves to drum up more allies. I volunteered to infiltrate one in an attempt to find information but the idea was shot down by the Order."

"With good reason, if you are discovered, you're as good as dead."

"It's a risk, but a minimal one. With one of your enhanced polyjuice potions and the skills Incacha and Otoronco have taught me about disguising my scent, no one will recognize me."

"It's not safe," Snape insisted.

"Lupin, I'm the impulsive one, not you. This is crazy." Sirius stood up, hand falling on his oldest friend's shoulder. "You and Harry are all I have left."

The argument continued with Sirius and Snape, probably in agreement for the first time ever, pointing out all the flaws in the plan and trying to sway Remus.

Harry remained silent, torn between a multitude of conflicting emotions. On the one hand, Nagini was the answer to more than one problem facing them. On the other, he didn't want to risk losing Remus the way he'd already lost Sirius once. There'd be no second chances for the werewolf.

Finally, Draco asked, "Is there any other way to save the Headmaster?"

Snape's pinched-lipped head shake said it all.

"Then, this is the best chance we have to get close enough to get the snake." His voice was low and darkly serious. "Instead of arguing about it, let's put our energy and brains into figuring out how to make it as safe as possible for Lupin."

#

With Dumbledore's unconscious body in residence, Grimmauld Place seemed gloomier than ever. The brief flurry of activity, an afternoon surrounded by his oldest friend and his godson made the sudden quiet oppressive, now that Sirius was alone once again in the gloomy building he was forced to call home. Sometimes he felt more isolated and abandoned here than he had when he was dead.

At least, in the land of the dead, he'd known there was no hope. Here, he lived in anticipation of someone walking through the door for some reason. Any reason. Lived in hope of the day he could walk out that door. Walk down the streets as himself without fear of going back to prison.

Instead, he sat in his brother's room. Again. Surrounded once more by Reg's journals. He'd gotten them out, intending to reread them. Guilt had swamped him, however, before he'd read more than a few words.

Knowing, now, that Regulus had changed sides at the end. That he'd sacrificed himself in an attempt to stop Voldemort. It made Sirius wonder how much of his brother's suffering was his fault. If he hadn't been such a rebel, would his parent's have put so much pressure on Regulus to be a perfect pure blood? Maybe his little brother might never have joined the Death Eaters.

Sirius scrubbed his hand over his eyes and took a deep breath to stave off the burning tears threatening to fall.

"Why didn't you come to me, Reg?" He asked the empty room. "You had to know I would have helped."

Except, of course, at that point they'd been estranged so long, Regulus hadn't known him at all. And Sirius had been hard-headed, stubborn and arrogant. He might not have listened. Might not have believed or trusted or accepted Regulus at all.

He might even have done something foolish and reckless and betrayed his brother to Voldemort without even realizing it.

Sirius had grown up some, now, but it had taken twelve years in prison and _dying_ to do it. And he was still of no use to his friends and family. He couldn't do anything to help Dumbledore and the man's sacrifice had been for naught. His best friend was off, alone, surrounded by rogue werewolves, Death Eaters and the Dark Lord.

While he sat in his new prison and twiddled his thumbs.

He couldn't change the past. He couldn't leave the house to fight against Voldemort. Instead, he could only do his best to make sure his brother's death wasn't in vain. To try and find answers for Harry and the others to free the wizarding world.

Sirius picked up the first journal, written by an eleven year old Regulus, in hopes of finding some clue of where his older self might have hidden the locket.


	4. Chapter 4

"I can't help you, Minister," Professor McGonagall's sharp voice, clipped and impatient, echoed through the entry hall. "I've already told you, the password changes at noon everyday and I won't know what the new one is until Albus returns."

Harry's hearing zeroed in on the conversation as soon as he and Draco entered the castle, returning from the Quidditch pitch where the Gryffindor team had been practicing. He stopped, hand bunching in Draco's robe and pulling the Slytherin to a stop beside him. He tilted his head to listen closer.

"…tell him it is his responsibility, his duty, to help the Ministry. We have to calm the people. He and the boy must make a statement supporting us."

Scrimgeour voice was calm but intense. Under it, though, Harry heard the man's heartbeat racing with fear, heard the struggle he had keeping his breath even and slow.

"I will pass your message on, as soon as the headmaster returns," McGonagall said. Then added. "I doubt his answer will be any different this time than it has been any of the previous dozen times you've made these demands."

"Perhaps. But since Dumbledore isn't here, I think maybe I should talk to Harry myself…"

"I'm afraid that's impossible today. He has detention with Professor Weasley and is mucking out the Thestral stables." She paused then Harry heard the amusement in her voice. "Unless, of course, you'd like to borrow a pair of waders to visit. The stalls have been a bit neglected…"

"Thank you, no. I have to get back to running the Ministry and trying to save the world from a mad man. Do tell Dumbledore I expect him to do what is best for the wizarding world."

"Albus always does what he believes is best for the people," McGonagall was calm but her voice dripped with disdain.

Harry listened to the footsteps stomp away and McGonagall muttered under her breath, "Get back to figuring out how to lie to the public, you mean. Maybe offer them cakes and circuses to distract them from the fact that Rome is burning."

When Harry brought his attention back, Draco stood in front of him, one hand on his shoulder and one on his chest, grounding him automatically. He smiled at his Guide, pure pleasure in the feel of him so close. "Thank you."

Draco shrugged and rolled his eyes, but asked, "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," he answered but shifted, hands landing on Draco's waist and twisting so that his Guide was pressed up against the wall and Harry was pressed up against him. "Just Scrimgeour, blustering and demanding again."

He let his nose drift along Draco's throat, nuzzling and enjoying the feel of his Guide enveloping his senses while he relayed the conversation he'd eavesdropped on.

Draco's hands slipped to his shoulders and arched his neck to give Harry all the access he could ever want. Harry let his lips wander over the pale, warm skin, and considered suggesting blowing off the Halloween feast, dragging Draco someplace quiet and secluded, instead.

"Wait, the password to Dumbledore's office changed?" Draco shifted slightly, the body under Harry's hands tensing.

Harry's teeth nipped at _that_ spot behind Draco's ear before he answered. "Yeah. It keeps people out when Dumbledore's away."

"But, what about the Horcruxes? The diary and the ring are locked up in his office."

Harry sighed and shifted back. Now that Draco's brain was working on a problem, very little would distract him.

"It doesn't really matter. We can't do anything with them, until we find them all. And that means we'd have Nagini, to bring Dumbledore back, before we even need to get to the diary and ring."

Harry swallowed hard against the fear that had been slowly creeping into his gut over the past few days.

Remus had been gone for a month. The first three weeks, he'd checked in like clockwork. But he'd missed his check in at the beginning of the week. And every day since without word, the tension and fear had twisted tighter and tighter.

Worse, he'd watched Snape and McGonagall looked paler and tenser every day that passed without word from the werewolf. The strain of covering for Dumbledore's disappearances had been taking its own toll. Adding fear for Lupin's safety made it feel as if every moment teetered on the edge of disaster.

Draco pulled him close and tucked Harry's face against the soft skin of his neck, soothing affection pulsing between their bond.

"It's okay, Harry. He'll come back. He'll get the snake and come back. We are going to win this."

Harry let himself relax and curl into his Guide. Let himself believe it, though he knew it was anything but a surety.

#

Despite the cheerful Halloween festivities around them, the little corner of Gryffindor table around Harry was solemn and subdued. Even Ron restrained himself from his usual gorging. The gravity of knowledge weighed them all down, though each carried a different load. Draco and Ron and Hermione shared his heavy burden of secrets. Between Dumbledore's curse, Lupin's disappearance and the Horcruxes, it felt like they held all of the wizarding world's greatest secrets between them. Ginny sat just beyond her brother and watched them with narrow eyes. She knew Remus and Dumbledore were missing, knew Harry and Ron and the others well enough to know it wasn't good, even if she didn't know the details.

Neville knew about Dumbledore and Remus but not the Horcrux. He did, however, have the weight of the Sentinel Phenomenon on his shoulders and the strained relationship with his Guide that Harry remembered all too well from the beginning of his bond with Draco. He only hoped Neville and Charlie worked it out soon. From the determined way Neville kept his gaze averted, though, Harry worried his friend would live up to the Gryffindor reputation of stubborn self-sacrifice. His money was on Charlie, though. A Weasley could out-Gryffindor even Godric himself.

Harry picked at the wrapper of his Chocolate Frog and Draco leaned against him, shoulder pressing into his arm in silent reassurance.

The sound of the Great Hall's doors slamming open sounded like a detonation and Harry's wand was in his hand, his body angling to put itself between the threat and Draco before the last of the frivolous chatter dropped into stunned silence.

When his eyes finally focused on the intruder, he shouted with pure joy and ran to meet the huge figure hovering in the door. He heard Hermione, Ron and Neville, a step behind as he met Hagrid with a fierce hug and the half-giant swept him up off the ground, squeezing his ribs to the limit with enthusiasm.

Hagrid laughed boisterously and set him on his feet to greet the others and Harry glanced around automatically for his Guide, who'd followed at a more sedate pace. Harry rolled his eyes and turned back to add his voice to the greetings and questions the others bombarded him with.

"You're back!"

"What happened?"

"How'd it go?"

Hagrid glanced around at the crowded room, but pinched his lips tight. The rest of the room had resumed the festivities as soon as they realized it was only Hagrid invading their party but there were still plenty of students close enough to overhear them.

He set his finger next to his nose and shook his head slightly.

"Eh, now, here's not the place to be discussing my… vacation. And I should talk to the Headmaster, first, all the same."

He glanced up to the High Table, eyes widening when he took in the empty chair where Dumbledore should sit.

Everyone stilled, and Harry felt something tight and painful knot up in his chest. "Uh, yeah. About that…" He cleared his throat but the words still came out soft and hoarse. "You'll have to talk to Professor McGonagall for now."

Harry looked back to the High Table, where Professor McGonagall rose out of her seat staring at them with tightly pursed lips and an expectant glare. Hagrid's eyes widen, mouth opening in surprise for a second before it snapped shut. He straightened his shoulders and followed when McGonagall tilted her head and headed to the chamber beyond the Head Table.

As soon as they'd disappeared behind a tightly warded door, Harry and his friends moved back to the Gryffindor table, ignoring the sudden flood of speculation and rumor flying around the hall.

Slowly, though, the tables cleared as everyone, teacher and students alike, headed for their own private parties and celebrations. When the room was empty of anyone but the small group at Gryffindor table, Charlie wandered down to join them. Neville's body tensed and his eyes stayed riveted on Ginny, who was talking about the morning's Quidditch practice.

The rest of them remained tense and quiet while they waited. Eventually, Hagrid emerged from the anti-chamber, along with the deputy Headmistress, looking grave and heartbroken.

McGonagall rushed off to message members of the Order and Hagrid sat down heavily next to Harry at the table.

"Dumbledore, I canna' believe it…" the half-giant muttered, looking lost.

Before Harry could think of a way to comfort his friend, Hermione jumped in, looking determined.

"Hagrid, tell us about your trip. Were you successful in getting the giants to join us, instead?"

Harry was about to scold her for being insensitive, but then he saw how Hagrid straightened, determination and resolve back in his eyes and realized the distraction was exactly what the man needed.

"Not precisely, no. But we have a truce, for now, at least. As long as Goglia stays in charge, they won't fight on either side."

Harry's shoulders slumped and disappointment edged through him. The giants would have made a huge difference in the fight against Voldemort, but he'd have to be satisfied the Dark Lord didn't get to use them, either.

"Minerva told me about the Headmaster. And about Remus, what else has been going on while I've been out in the wilds?"

Harry's gut knotted at the reminder of Lupin's disappearance, but the other's jumped in, taken turns to tell Hagrid about all the things that had been reported by the Order and the Prophet since the beginning of term.

The big man hung his shaggy head, tears unchecked while he listened until they ran out of news to report.

"'Tis a waste and an outrage. Ollivander made me wand. And Florean helped me with the maze for the Tri-wizard tournament."

"He what?" Hermione's sharp question pierced the quiet hush surrounding them.

Hagrid blinked at her. "He designed it. Hobby of his, I guess. Old family thing, I think."

Her eyes were wide and she jumped to her feet. "Oh. Oh! I'll be right back."

Ron leaned back and watched her run with a grin. "A Sickle says she comes back with a book."

Draco leaned forward and smirked. "Two says she comes back with 'Hogwarts: A History.'"

Ron blinked and shook his head. "No way. I'd be mental to take that bet."

Laughter bubbled up and went a long way toward dispelling the tension that tightened around them while they'd discussed Voldemort's atrocities.

Harry rolled his shoulders and let himself breathe, leaning into Draco's shoulder and absorbed the feeling of hope and support.

#

When Hermione returned, toting her copy of Hogwarts: A History, Draco couldn't help smirking at Weasley who just buried his head in his hands to smother his own laughter. The rest of their little group did their best to cover their amusement with varying degrees of success.

Hermione cast a suspicious glance at the lot of them but lifted her chin with a lofty glare and flipped through the well-worn pages.

"Okay, here," she said, finger skimming down the words. "Before taking up the mantle of Headmaster, Dexter Fortescue was best known for having discovered the secrets of the powerful and mysterious Rosamunde Labyrinth."

Silence lingered for a minute when she finished speaking before Ron cleared his throat and asked what they were all thinking.

"Er, uh, what's the secret?"

Hermione sighed and closed the cover. "It doesn't say."

"Well, that's helpful, then," Ron was the only one to mutter it out loud, but Draco nodded in agreement.

She sighed and shook her head, looking resigned. "Don't you see? He took Fortescue the same time he took Ollivander. I bet Florean knows something about his ancestor's research. Chances are, You-Know-Who thinks the labyrinth will help him in his search for power. If we can find out more about it before he does, we can get a step ahead of him."

"He's had Florean and Ollivander for weeks. He probably knows everything they do, by now." Harry's voice broke a little, a faint tremor passing through him when he spoke. Draco knew what he was thinking, what they were all thinking about the fate of the two men.

Hermione pursed her lips, looking as distraught as the rest of them. "Yes, but if he'd found what he was looking for, we surely would have heard about it, by now. It sounds like the kind of thing he'd be showing off. Maybe Florean and Ollivander didn't have what he thought they did. Or maybe they're resisting."

No matter what the case, Draco felt sick. He knew what Voldemort was capable of, and he wouldn't wish that on anyone.

Hermione sighed and pushed her hand into her bushy hair. "Look, we're stuck on everything else. This is a new lead, maybe it will help us find another direction."

There wasn't any way to argue with that.

#

When the group broke up and left in ones and twos, Neville hesitated, torn. He could hang back and talk to Charlie. To savor a few, last, precious moments. Give them both a clean break.

Or he could run back to the dorm and bury his head under his pillow. Avoid the wrenching pain and heartbreak of goodbye.

The fear and loss and grief were already doing a number on his senses as they went haywire trying to absorb as much of Charlie as possible. It made up his mind for him, and he walked quickly from the Hall before he embarrassed himself one last time in front of Charlie by zoning out.

As soon as he was out of sight, he ran blindly, not thinking or planning, just fleeing. When he finally took a deep breath and noticed his surroundings, he wasn't really surprised to find himself outside the greenhouses. It was better, though, than going back to Gryffindor tower. Here, maybe he'd find a way to calm himself before Hermione's eagle eye, or Draco's Guide instincts or Harry's heavy sympathy smothered him. He grabbed some supplies and got to work on his latest experiment.

An hour later, he was elbow deep in potting soil when the sound of footsteps broke the silence. He glanced over his shoulder, but his nose and ears told him it was Charlie before his eyes locked on his Guide.

"You know, if you want to hide, doing it in your favorite spot isn't the best idea."

"I wasn't. I was just… I…" Neville swallowed hard, turned back to face the table in front of him and carefully wiped his hands off on a nearby rag. "I have no idea what I'm doing."

He felt Charlie moving closer and tensed, trying to make some sense of the deluge of sensations assaulting him. Then strong arms wrapped around his waist and Neville couldn't help relaxing into. He let his head drop against the strong chest. Let the blessed heartbeat soothed the raging pain that had been assaulting his senses since he'd seen Hagrid and realized exactly what it meant.

As good as it felt though, he couldn't keep expecting this. "You don't have to… I'm fine."

"Fine? You're so tense you feel like you're going to snap. I'm no Sentinel, but even I can hear the way you're trying to control your breathing. I thought you agreed to let me help, when you needed it. Why won't you let me?"

"Because I don't want to get use to it." Neville knew he should let it go, try to say goodbye with some dignity, but the words burst out of him in a tumble of desperation. "Don't want to depend on it. I was managing okay on my own, before. I'm sure I can muddle through until I find another Guide."

The arm around his waist tightened and the body behind him became steel hard. The heartbeat sped up and the breath stopped for a second until Charlie let out a shuddering exhale.

"You want another Guide," he said it softly, like he didn't really want to believe his own words. "I'm not great at this, I know, but I'm trying to figure it out as fast as I can. Could you… Can you just tell me what I'm doing wrong? Give me a little more time to get it right?"

Neville turned, surprised at the uncertainty from the normally confident Charlie.

"You're not doing anything wrong. Why would you think that?"

"Well, Sentinel's are supposed to be kind of attached to their Guides. You avoid me. Now you're talking about dumping me for someone else."

"I'm not…" Neville shook his head trying to sort it out. Were they having the same conversation? "Hagrid is back. You'll be leaving. I'm trying not to get attached."

"Oh." The arms around Neville relaxed and a smile hinted around Charlie's lips once again. "See, if you hadn't been avoiding me, you already know, Professor McGonagall asked me to stay on and split duties with Hagrid. That way he can be free to liaise with the giants or disappear on other Order business with less disruption. I'm also going to be taking over some of the DADA courses until we get Remus back."

"You're staying?" Neville was sure his hearing must be offline, somehow his out-of-control senses had made him imagine hearing the words he'd been wishing for.

"Until the end of the year."

Just like that, his stomach sank again.

"Oh, right. Then back to Romania."

But Neville couldn't fight anymore. He'd take a temporary Guide and train as hard as possible so he'd be strong and independent when the school year ended. He'd make sure Charlie had no reason to feel responsible for him. When the time came, he'd learn to deal with being only half of a whole being.

#

Draco woke with a gasp, wisps of blue still floating across his vision. He blinked the last of the dream away and sat up. Despite the darkness, the dim outlines of familiar furniture reminded him he was in the room he shared with Harry at Grimmauld Place for the Christmas Holiday.

Next to him, Harry stirred and Draco forced himself to calm down, not wanting to wake his over-protective Sentinel. Not when he wasn't ready to face the dream, let alone talk about it. Instead, he stroked fingers along Harry's bare back, soothing them both and settling his bedmate back into a deeper sleep.

Christmas was only a couple of days away and Draco had mixed feelings about it. He was trying to enjoy every second of getting to share a room, and a bed with Harry. Even if the git kept insisting they 'not go too far' until Voldemort was defeated and having a full bond wouldn't be danger to Draco.

But every time they had the conversation, it brought the dark reminder that the two months since Halloween had been a waste. Dumbledore remained unconscious. Lupin was still missing. Voldemort was still free and the wizarding world remained terrified.

The only new information they'd managed to dig up was a variety of stories about the Rosamunde Labyrinth, with ridiculous claims that it was everything from a fountain of youth to a nexus of power that drew on ley lines that connected the whole world. Also, it appeared and disappeared seemingly on a whim. So far, nothing they'd found told them when or where to expect it next.

In other words, they had nothing.

Which was exactly what his father's doppelganger had been taunting Draco about in his dream.

_Useless. Feckless. Arrogant. So easily distracted and led astray._

The words rang in his head, echoes of the lectures that had punctuated his childhood. Despite his change of heart, there was still a deep-seated part of Draco that hated disappointing his father. That had once done everything, including ignoring his own conscience, to prove himself worthy of his father's time, respect and affection.

The dismissive sneer, the cold words, the familiar disappointed tone had twisted him up in the dream, the same as it had growing up. Even now, it left him feeling gutted and weak, the way it always had.

Draco hated these dreams. Hated that they had started all over again. They'd stopped after his last visit to Incacha and he'd fooled himself into believing they were gone for good.

He hadn't seen the shaman since before Lupin disappeared. Maybe he could help Draco untangle the web of his subconscious.

Rolling out of bed, he dressed as quietly as possible and left a quick note before slipping out of the house and Apparating away.

#

The clearing looked exactly the same as every other time he'd been there. Except, of course, that it was empty. They'd had no plans to meet. There was no reason for the shaman to be waiting.

Draco turned a slow circle, but dense jungle was all he saw. He'd always followed Incacha on practically invisible paths through the overgrown foliage, and he had no idea which way to go.

Then something soft brushed against his shin and Draco jumped back, wand at the ready. But only his spirit fox sat next to him, somehow managing to look both amused and annoyed.

"Oh, it's you." Draco lowered his wand, feeling a little ridiculous talking to an animal that wasn't actually corporeal. "Don't suppose you know how to find Incacha?"

Draco hadn't known it was possible for an animal to roll its eyes in exasperation, but that's exactly what his fox did before standing and trotting to the edge of the clearing. It paused, looked back then disappeared into the jungle and Draco had to hurry after it to keep it in sight.

Just about the time he'd decided the fox was leading him in circles for its own amusement, the trees abruptly thinned and he found himself in open air once again, a small village a few hundred yards away. A few feet away, however, Incacha sat, cross-legged on a fallen tree. He seemed unsurprised to see Draco stumbling out of the jungle.

Draco stopped and frowned at the shaman. "Let me guess, you knew I was coming?"

That infuriating half-smile was his only answer.

With a scowl pulling at the muscles of his face, Draco plopped down on the log next to Incacha. "Look, I know you said I had to sort out my feelings about my father before I could face him or whatever. But he's my _father_. I know the things he did… the things I did… because of his stupid superiority-complex were reprehensible. I just, in the dream, the way he looks at me, the way he used to look at me when I fucked up. I want to apologize. Want to figure out how to make him proud of me."

Frustration and self-contempt curled darkly in his gut at his own weakness. He loathed everything his father stood for, and yet he still had the impulse to earn Lucius's approval.

"Is it your father who is disappointed in you? Or is it you?"

Draco's dark thoughts froze and he stared at Incacha while he processed the question.

The dreams had been gone for weeks, and yet there was no doubt his father would have been disappointed all along. Why had Lucius suddenly appeared in his subconscious again?

"Sometimes, the enemy of our dreams simply holds up a mirror. What did you dream show you?"

"He said I'm easily distracted. That I can be led astray…" Draco frowned and pushed aside the overwhelming emotions of the dream for the first time and focused on the words. "That I took the wrong fork and ended up on the wrong path."

He chewed on his lower lip while he rolled the words around in his head. Draco had assumed Lucius meant siding with Harry and Dumbledore over Voldemort. If Incacha was right, though, and it wasn't about Lucius, then it meant his own subconscious was trying to redirect him. And there was something important that had been pushed to the back burner.

"We've been focusing on Fortescue and Ollivander and trying to get a step ahead of You-know-who. But none of that matters if we don't have the means to stop him when we do find him. We need the Horcruxes if we want to end this. And we've all but forgotten about them." He looked up at Incacha, hopeful and desperate. "Can you help me find them? Is there any way to seek them on the physical plane?"

"Shaman's collect soul-pieces in the realms beyond this one. And this is a task you and your watchman and his warrior-brethren must complete. However, it is time to teach you to call the soul-pieces back, once you have found the vessels."

From his medicine, Incacha pulled out a smooth bone disk the size of his palm strung on a leather cord. Pale lines were scratched into its surface, creating runes Draco didn't recognize.

"This is a soul-catcher. You will need it to hold the reformed soul until you can return it to its original vessel." He pressed the disk into Draco's hands.

Draco wasn't sure how long he sat on the fallen tree, painstakingly learning the steps of calling, catching and trapping stray pieces of soul. When Incacha was satisfied with his progress, the shaman led him to the clearing where he'd arrived and said goodbye.

At the edge of the jungle, Incacha turned back looking  serious and intent.

"Sometimes a piece must be carried away, before it can be reclaimed. Sometimes we must journey to where our hearts are whole, before the soul can be set free."

Draco blinked at the cryptic words, but, before he could ask what the hell that was supposed to mean, the shaman disappeared into the trees.

#

Harry sat on the bottom step, sullenly glaring at the door. The afternoon sun slowly lowered into evening while he sulked in the deepening into gloom and carefully constructed the furious lecture on inconsiderate, impulsive stunts. The anger helped to keep the fear at bay, terror that had been growing like wildfire in his gut.

The sudden sensation of something missing had torn Harry out of deep sleep. Draco's heartbeat. The soothing sound was nowhere in his range of hearing and its absence had been terrifying. Reminding him of those horrifying moments by the lake when Draco's heart had stopped. When he'd been dead and nearly beyond Harry's reach forever.

His Guide's scent had still hung heavy and recent in the room, at least. The familiar sweet spice spiked with acrid fear and metallic determination. The bond was still strong and thick but distant. Harry could feel Draco, but everything beyond that was hazy.

The brief, uninformative note had only heightened his protective instincts. He'd gone immediately to Sirius, demanded his help in finding Draco.

But Sirius had talked him out of going after his Guide. The shaman was as territorial, in his own way, as Harry was. Uninvited intrusions might mean Incacha would refuse to help them anymore.

So he'd been sitting in the same spot for hours, fear growing with every ticking second, pushing out the frustration and the anger. In the months since they'd accepted the second bond, Draco had only been out of range of Harry's senses a handful of times. And he'd always been with Remus or Snape or Sirius. People he trusted to protect his Guide.

When the door finally opened, the carefully constructed scathing diatribe on thoughtless whims completely left him. Instead, he jumped to his feet, bracketing Draco between his body and the door before he even thought about it.

He buried his nose in Draco's neck, inhaling the sweet scent and centering his hearing on the rich, even beat of his heart. When Draco's hands came up to stroke soothingly over his back, Harry shuddered and sank even more of his weight against his Guide.

"Harry…" Draco murmured.

"Don't," Harry muttered into the pale skin beneath his lips. "Danger. Gone. You were gone. Again. Don't."

"Sorry. I didn't think."

It took a minute for Harry to gather his thoughts and push the instincts far enough back to regain control. Finally, he shoved himself away, the anger once again burning bright in his gut.

"What the hell, Draco? What were you thinking?"

Draco didn't blink, didn't even look guilty. Just shrugged.

"I'm sorry. I had another dream. I needed to know what it meant. I needed… I just _knew_ I had to get to Incacha."

Harry knew that feeling. The tug of destiny that couldn't be ignored no matter how much he wanted to or how hard he tried.

He snarled and pushed his hand through his already tangled hair. He didn't have to like it, though.

"Next time, at least wake me up."

"Yeah, okay." Draco stepped forward, snogging himself back into Harry's arms, and they both knew it didn't always work that way, but they'd both pretend, for now.

"So, what exciting things did your dream reveal, this time?"

Draco sighed. "We're doing it wrong. We've gotten sidetracked. Again."

He glanced at the covered portrait and tugged Harry toward the kitchen. "Let's not wake the old bat. You go get Sirius and I'll Floo Ron and Hermione. I'd really rather not do this a hundred times."

Harry almost refused. He didn't want to let Draco out of his sight for even a second. But his feelings, his instincts, didn't give him the right to wrap Draco in cotton and keep him hidden under the bed.

He could however, hurry up, and get back to his Guide's side as fast as possible.

#

Draco cradled the warm mug between his hands and leaned hard against Harry's shoulder while they settled around the kitchen table and Sirius served tea to Ron and Hermione. All four of them looked at Draco expectantly and he took a warming swallow before speaking.

"We've been doing this wrong," he said, voice heavy with exhaustion. The day had barely begun and he was so ready to crawl back into bed. "We've been looking in the wrong direction for months. Knowing what Fortescue and Ollivander isn't the way."

Hermione bristled, mouth opening to protest, but, for a change, it was Ron who elbowed _her_ into silence.

Draco set his mug down and sighed. "I'm not saying that stuff isn't important or that we don't need to figure it out, too. But we _know_ we have to get You-Know-Who's soul in order to stop him. We need the Horcruxes, or the rest doesn't matter because we can't win."

The room dropped into heavy silence and Hermione pinched her lips together looking like she was trying to find some flaw in his logic. Eventually, her shoulders sagged and she leaned back, looking defeated.

"You're right, I suppose. But we pretty much exhausted all of our ideas on that front before Halloween. Did your dream or the shaman give you any idea where to look?"

"No."

It was never that easy, when it really, really should be. Whatever gave him the weird cryptic dreams could just as easily hand him a map with a nice red 'X marks the spot' as lead him on these crazy chases.

Hermione arched an eyebrow at his sharp, dark tone but didn't bother reprimanding him. Instead she turned to Sirius. "Anything new in Reg's journals about the locket?"

Sirius shook his head and pressed his hands to his eyes before answering.

"No. Nothing. But considering what the cave was like… Reg could have made the switch then got pulled under by the Inferi. The locket could be at the bottom of the lake."

A soft, desperate sound escaped Harry and he stiffened. "Then we need to go to the cave."

Sirius shuddered and ducked his head, but not before Draco caught a flash of that same, haunted look Black got whenever someone mentioned his death. Whatever was in that cave, it was as horrifying as death and Draco wanted no part of it.

Draco reached out and ran a soothing hand over his Sentinel's shoulder.

Hermione's severe look softened with compassion, but her tone remained serious.

"We'd have to find a way to get rid of the Inferi first. Fire won't do us any good against them in an underwater search." She stared at Harry until some of the tension eased out of him, then turned back to his godfather. "Sirius, can you just go through it one more time. How did you know to look for the locket there? Tell us every detail."

"It was the last entry in my brother's journal. When he figured out what Voldemort had done, he was furious and disgusted. Scared, too, I think, but he didn't admit that. He made Kreacher take him back to the cave—"

"Kreacher!"

Hermione and Draco shouted at the same time, while the Harry and Ron looked at them like they were crazy and Sirius just shook his head.

"Dumbledore tried to talk to him, but he refused to say anything at all about that time. We think Reg ordered him never to reveal the secret to any wizard and I can't even order him to speak of it. I searched this place from top to bottom after… after Dumbledore…."

He trailed off, they all instinctively looked to the ceiling, even though several floors separated them from the still unconscious Headmaster.

"I searched everywhere, even Kreacher's little hidey-hole, which, frankly, was disturbing. If it were here, I'd have found it. It's not anywhere in the house."

"But it was here," Hermione said. It was definitive and sure, not a guess or hope. Excitement bubbled up and she bounced out of her chair. "Don't you remember? When we were cleaning, it was in that glass cabinet in the drawing room. With the musical box and the Order of Merlin. We all tried to open it but we couldn't so it went in the trash with the rest."

"So it's gone, then." Harry slumped, desperation melting into dejection and Draco slid closer, trying to offer comfort.

"No, I don't think so. Kreacher kept stealing stuff, remember? If it was important enough that he won't talk about it, he'd have rescued it."

"Then where is it?" Ron asked.

Some of the excited energy drained out of her. "I don't know. Maybe he has it with him at Hogwarts."

"Even if he does, how are we going to find it?" Harry asked. "Hogwarts has way more places to hide a treasure than this place and he's still not going to tell any wizard about it."

"Dobby."

The name jumped out of Draco's mouth before he even realized what he was thinking.

"What?" More than one voice asked the question.

"I have an idea. Who wants to spend New Year's Eve at Hogwarts?"


	5. Chapter 5

It was almost midnight on New Year's Eve when Harry and Draco Apparated outside Hogwarts where Dobby waited, eyes wide and ears twisting down.

Most of the school was dark, making the occasional lighted window and the soft hum of music seem eerie in the quiet shadows.

"Harry Potter, sir. Everyone's partying, just like you said. Kreacher is drinking with Winky." Dobby's ears drooped lower. "I didn't even have to encourage him. Are you sure this is right?"

Harry pressed his lips together, guilt curling tight in his heart but he answered honestly. "I don't know if it's right, Dobby, but we need to find that locket. Even if Kreacher would talk to us, the geas won't let him share what he knows with a wizard. Nobody wants to see him hurt."

The trip through the corridors of Hogwarts was slow going, with Harry and Draco crushed together under the invisibility cloak trying not to trip each other up. The faint hints of music and laughter floating up from where the few students and faculty in residence gathered was even more unnerving in the silence of empty hallways.

The merriment and frivolity of the kitchens was almost a relief when they entered. Still, Harry couldn't believe the difference. The times he'd been there before, the room had bustled with purpose and industry and not a single wasted effort or action.

Now, though, twice as many house elves as he'd ever seen crowded the room. There was dancing and singing and card playing and even more food. No one even looked up when Dobby walked in and pushed his way through the crowd. Harry was grateful they'd chosen to where the cloak. Their presence would probably have ended the frivolity and Harry had a feeling the elves didn't cut loose like this very often.

Still, making their way through the crowded room without giving themselves away was painstakingly slow. By the time they'd made it to the quiet corner where Winky and Kreacher slumped against each other, Dobby had a bottle in his hand, waving it slightly and slurring his words, though Harry knew there was no way he'd had time to get that drunk.

Harry didn't quite here what Dobby said, but Kreacher whimpered, his whole body sagging with dismay.

"Kreacher failed. Simple task. Last request of Master Reg and I failed."

Winky moaned in commiseration, snagging the bottle out of Dobby's hand and downing a worrying amount.

"Failed? Imposshibul… Kreacher is perfect elf to his pure blood masters."

"I tried. Tried. One task. Destroy it. His last words and Kreacher promised but I failed." Dropped his face into his hands, shoulders shuddering.

Harry had caught his breath on 'destroy' but let it out slowly when Kreacher admitted failure. 

"Mudblood tried to throw it away, Kreacher saved it." His head shot up, face covered in tears and snot. "Kreacher saved it, but now it's gone. Gone, gone, gone."

Dobby stared at pathetic elf in horror until Draco stepped closer and nudged him. 

Clearing his throat, Dobby dropped down to sit beside Kreacher, awkwardly patting his shoulder. "Gone? Gone where? Where did it go?"

Kreacher snarled. "Thief. Filthy, no good thief. Took many of Mistresses precious things. Took Kreacher's treasures. Mudblood-lovers let thief in and pests never leave."

He continued to rant, but things started to click into place. The only thief that Harry knew of, the only one they'd let into Grimmauld Place, was Mundungus Fletcher.

Harry carefully tapped Dobby with the prearranged signal then he and Draco made their way out of the kitchen. 

"Fletcher."

The name exploded out of Harry as soon as they found a darkened corner to talk. "I should have known. Dumbledore said he caught him trying to steal the silver after Sirius… after. We have to find out where his is. We need to talk to Professor McGonagall."

"She'll be in the Great Hall for the celebration. We don't want everyone to see us. Let's go talk to Snape," Draco suggested. "He's probably in the dungeons, avoiding the frivolity."

Harry should have known it wouldn't be that easy. Snape hadn't been welcoming when they'd knocked on his door and now he sat, hands steepled and fingertips pressed to his lips, glaring at them with suspicion.

"What, pray tell, is so important that you snuck into Hogwarts over break to ask about Mundungus Fletcher?"

"We can't tell you." Harry returned the glare, refusing to back down. "But we really need to find him. Do you know where he is or not?"

Snape didn't answer and Harry had had enough. "Fine. I'll just go wait for Professor McGonagall…"

"Harry," Draco murmured and stopped him with a gentle hand on his wrist. Then he turned back to the Potions Master. "Severus, it's important. We can't explain why, we promised Dumbledore, but it is very important."

"Dumbledore and his secrets," Snape muttered. "Does it have anything to do with what he was doing when…"

"Yes. But I can't say anymore."

"Of course not. You two really think you can succeed where he failed?"

Harry shook his head. "He did succeed. Sort of. Now it's up to us to follow on from where he left off."

The silent stretched so long, Harry was ready to leave again, assuming Snape wasn't going to help, when the man finally spoke.

"I'm afraid you'll have to wait a few months to speak to Fletcher. He was sentence to half a year in Azkaban for bribing a public official to ignore the sale of stolen goods." Snape's smirk shifted into a genuine smile. "The public official, delightfully enough, was Dolores Umbridge. I can only hope they're sharing adjoining cells."

Harry step forward, eager and hopeful. "The stolen goods, where are they? They were confiscated, right? Are they at the Ministry? Could Shacklebolt get us in to see them?"

"I'm afraid Mundungus escaped, briefly, while Umbridge resisted arrest. By the time they found him again, he'd hidden his ill-gotten gains. They have not been recovered."

"Damn it." Disappointment cooled off the flame hope. "Damn."

"He'll be out in a couple of months. I'm sure we can arrange a meeting for you then."

"Yeah. In the meantime, I guess it's back to square one," Harry muttered. "Again."

#

New Year's Day brunch at the Burrow was punctuated with lots of expectant stares and aborted conversations. Every time Hermione and Ron tried to ask what had happened with the house elves they'd to be interrupted by one of the twins' prank, a question from Ginny, a lecture from Percy or Molly shooing them off to do some chore when she caught them idle. 

Eventually, the meal was over and the table cleared, and the four of them escaped to Ron's room. Hermione ensured their privacy, finally, with locking spell none of them had ever heard of. Draco felt a flash of the old annoyance when she one upped him, but consoled himself with the knowledge that, unlike the old days, she'd share it with him if he asked.

"So did you get it? Did Kreacher tell you where the locket is?" 

Ron asked once they'd all crammed into each to sit on the narrow bed.

"Yes and no," Harry answered and Draco laughed at the expected explosion of demands and questions it spurred. Eventually, between the two of them and all the interruptions, they managed to explain what Kreacher had said and what Snape had shared with them.

"Fletcher," Ron snarled. "How could he steal from Sirius? Or from you, since Sirius was dead when he did it. He's a member of the Order."

Harry shrugged and Draco bit his tongue. He used to think Ron was pathetically naive. Now he just wished he'd somehow held on to the Gryffindor's ability to expect fairness and honesty out of people. 

Ron slumped, in his seat, the righteous anger seeping out. "Now we have to wait weeks to get the locket."

"It's better than the alternative. I'm glad it's not in the cave." Harry shuddered and Draco inched closer to press their shoulders together. "No one's ever the same, again, after they've been in there. Sirius and Dumbledore. Regulus died there. I bet its part of what made Kreacher so mad. Even those orphans, Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop. In the Pensieve, that's what Mrs. Cole said. They were never the same again."

"Who?" Hermione bolted up.

"Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop?" A crease formed in Harry's forehead while he watched Hermione lunge over the side of the bed. "They were the orphans Riddle took to that cave."

Hermione sat up again, dragging her overstuffed bag with her.

"Uh, Hermione, why's your stuff under Ron's bed?" Draco asked, choking back the laughter when both Gryffindors blushed bright, hot red.

"That's not important," she mumbled digging out the thick folder she'd started using to organize and cross-reference their research on the Horcruxes. "This is."

She shoved the paper at them and Draco took it to keep it from going up his nose. It was a photocopy of an old Muggle newspaper article.

"What's it say?" Harry asked, leaning over his shoulder to read it. 

"'The unnamed tramp, found dead of unknown causes last week, has been identified as Dennis Bishop. Mr. Bishop, once a resident of Wool's orphanage, has no known relatives and was unemployed at the time of his death."

Draco looked up from the page, trying to put the pieces together. Into the silence of the room, Ron said, "What? That's it? What else does it say?"

Draco shook his head and handed over the paper.

"You think You-Know-Who killed him?" Harry asked.

Draco shrugged. "According to the date, he died around the time You-Know-Who killed Hepzibah Smith. We don't know when he made the Horcruxes, but it kind of makes sense. If you're a power hungry sadist."

"So, is it important that he might have killed this," Ron glanced at the paper. "Dennis Bishop?"

Hermione frowned and shrugged. "We don't have enough information to know yet. But everything You-Know-Who does seems to be important to _him_. If we can figure out why, maybe it will help."

They all sagged back into silence. It was more of the same. Finding pieces that don't fit with any of the other pieces and seemed to be from a completely different puzzle. 

In a few days, they'd be back at school and they weren't any closer to finding another Horcrux than they had been when they'd left.

#

Harry floated above the pitch, keeping one eye out for the Snitch while he observed the Gryffindor team practice. The surprisingly mild mid-February weather allowed them to sneak in one last practice before they had to face Hufflepuff tomorrow and Harry wanted to make sure they were in top shape. 

Ron protected one set of goals and, the third-year back up Keeper, Devin was doing a respectable job of guarding the other. In between, he'd mixed the first string and the substitutes into two teams and they faced each other in a four-on-four scrimmage.

Focusing on the upcoming match was the only thing keeping him for going insane. The weeks since they'd returned to Hogwarts after the holidays hadn't been completely wasted but the lack of action had been frustrating and mind-numbing for his Gryffindor soul.

They'd looked into Amy Benson, wondering if she'd been another victim but eventually discovered the she had died of pneumonia while Voldemort was still in his first year of Hogwarts. A determined Hermione had also tentatively pieced together some of Voldemort's movements during the ten years between Hepzibah Smith's death and his return to Hogwarts. He'd apparently been seeking out teachers to deepen his knowledge. The deaths of various Dark Art practitioners were practically a map, if you knew where to look.

The Spanish Necromancer who was the renowned authority on Inferi. The Albanian con-artist who used illusion and false memories to convince people she was the grand-niece of Rowena Ravenclaw to swindle them out of family heirlooms. The former Durmstrang professor who'd been the Offensive Magic instructor during Grindelwald's time there. The list of dead and missing had gone on and on. Obviously, once Voldemort had learned all he could, he wanted to ensure no one else would ever match his knowledge.

Unfortunately, it was all just more information that didn't really help them find the information they needed.

A flash of gold over his shoulder had Harry twisting his broom in mid-air all gloomy thoughts brushed away in the excitement of the chase.

Two minutes later, Harry landed with Snitch held high and a wide grin stretching his lips. He turned, searching for Draco but his smile faltered when he spotted his Guide standing next to a frowning Snape.

With a sigh, Harry handed off the Snitch to Ginny and addressed the team. "Good practice, everyone. We're gonna' slay the Hufflepuffs tomorrow. Make sure to get plenty of rest tonight."

Everyone headed for the locker room, except Ron, who dropped into step beside him when he headed for the Slytherins.

"Potter," Snape greeted him. "Fletcher is being released tomorrow. You'll need to be ready at dawn so we can be in place to follow him as soon as he makes landfall."

The abrupt command took Harry a second to process, but Ron was already protesting.

"He can't go tomorrow. If he's not there to play Seeker, we'll lose."

Silently, Harry agreed. The new Hufflepuff Seeker was amazing. She'd caught the Snitch in under three minutes, before Ravenclaw had scored a single point. But a Quidditch victory wouldn't stop Voldemort.

"Mr. Weasley, there are more important things going on in the world than Quidditch."

Harry bristled at the snide dismissal, even though it echoed his own thoughts. Ron just rolled his eyes and talked over Harry's attempt to defend him.

"I know that. But if Harry's not there, people will notice and start asking questions. Nobody will miss me. Devin'll probably be a better Keeper than me with a little more experience, anyway. Hermione and I can go with you. We know what we're looking for and what we have to do with it."

Snape pinched his lips like he'd tasted something sour, but then raised an eyebrow at Harry. "Well, Potter?"

"Ron, are you sure?"

His best friend shrugged. "There are more important things than Quidditch. But if we can get the… thing… from Fletcher _and_ beat Hufflepuff, why not?"

#

Wrapped up tight in the invisibility cloak, Sirius was both comforted and unnerved by how familiar it felt, even all these years later. It reminded him of good times with James and Remus, and felt a bit like a betrayal to be wearing it while taking orders from _Snape_ , of all people. It grated that he wasn't using it to spring some elaborate and amusing prank, but instead to conceal himself like a coward. It helped, a little, that at least Hermione and Ron were there with them. It wasn't the Marauders, but Harry's friends were Gryffindor enough to feel familiar and right. 

He was trying to control the impulsiveness that had gotten him in trouble so many times before. And he'd given his word to follow Snape's direction. Because he'd wanted to be here, waiting on the god-forsaken coast for Mundungus Fletcher's boat. The area, shielded from prying Muggle eyes, had been altered to accommodate the boat transported prisoners to and from Azkaban. Not far from the dock, a crude outdoor fireplace flickered eerily with the magically eternal flame it held. The shifting shadows only a faint warning if the darkness that awaited criminals on a desolate island in the middle of the North Sea.

Sirius shivered, coldly enveloped by memories. He'd never wanted to see this spot again.

He had to be here, though. Had to be part of this. Wanted desperately to help recover the locket. To redeem himself after he'd failed Dumbledore. 

The sound of oars in the water, made them all go still and his breathing grew shallow when the tiny boat came into view. Two guards sat at either end, with Fletcher in the middle, rowing despite the chains. It felt like an eternity before the vessel was secured to the dock and the guards unchained the convict.

"Here," one of the guards shoved a small bag into Fletcher's hands. "It's enough powder to Floo once."

"Don't waste it," the other Guard smirked when they got back in the boat and pushed off. "It's a long walk to anything that resembles civilization."

"What about my wand?" Fletcher shouted.

"You're on probation. Keep your nose clean for six months and the Ministry _might_ give it back."

The vessel had already disappeared into the fog and Fletcher stomped over to the fire. 

"Three Broomsticks," he shouted into the green flames then stepped through, disappearing from sight.

"Well," Snape sniffed, unrolling from his crouch. "The man is nothing if not predictable."

They Apparated to a vantage point outside Hogsmeade and settled in to keep vigil on the inn. 

Hours later, Fletcher stumbled out, singing and walking with a crooked gait, waving and smiling at everyone he passed on his way out of Hogsmeade and their invisible little group followed him silently. Not far outside Hogsmeade, Mundungus glanced around, assuring himself there was no one left to see him, no doubt. Then he straightened up, all illusion of drunkenness gone, and headed somewhere with a purpose.

It didn't take long for Sirius to recognize the path they were on. Whatever Fletcher was in a hurry to get to, it was hidden in the same hills and caves where Sirius himself had taken shelter during the Triwizard tournament.

Once the thief entered one of the caves, Snape removed the Disillusion charm from himself and the two Gryffindors and all three stepped forward to the mouth of the cave. Sirius remained cloaked, but stepped up behind the two students, ready to offer aid, if necessary.

"Well, well, well," Snape murmured, voice carrying in the cave and making Fletcher jump away from the boulder he'd been trying to shift. "Less than three hours out of Azkaban and you return to the scene of the crime."

Fletcher widened his eyes and held out his empty, dirt stained hands. "I don't know what you're talking about. I was framed. They didn't find any contraband when they caught me."

"Which is why you only got six months instead of the years you should have served in prison."

"I swear. It was all a misunderstanding…"

Ron snarled. "Shut it. You stole stuff from—" 

He side-eyed a space several feet from where Sirius actually stood then cleared his throat. 

"You stole from Harry. Stuff that was all he had left of his godfather. We're here to get it back."

Heart clenching at the reminder of how his impulsiveness nearly left Harry with nothing but trinkets and an old house, Sirius resolved to do whatever it took to clear his name and stand by his godson for a long, long time.

"I'd never…"

"Wingardium Leviosa." Hermione swished her wand and lifted the boulder out of the way, revealing a large hole, filled with shiny objects. She stepped past Fletcher and knelt down, pulling out the first object she found. 

"This silver chalice was in the dining room of Grimmauld Place. I know, because I polished the tarnish off for hours two summers ago. And this dagger has the Black coat of arms."

"Well, now, uh," Fletcher coughed. "I have no idea how any of that stuff got under that rock. I was just coming in here to sleep. Just got out of prison, you know. Had to find shelter for the night…"

Fletcher continued to prattle and plead his case to Snape. Behind him, hand wrapped in insulating silk, Hermione silently picked up the amulet. She let it dangle for them to see, before folding the silk over and slipping it out of sight.

"As Mr. Weasley, said, shut it, Fletcher." Snape brandished his wand when it looked like Mundungus would continue talking anyway. "You have two choices. We take this with us and let you go. Or we get an Auror, you go back to Azkaban for a few years and we take our chances getting Harry's stuff back from the Ministry."

"Not all of it is Harry's…"

"Azkaban it is, then—"

"No. Wait." Fletcher's shoulders sagged. "You can take the stuff."

Hermione and Ron gathered the rest of it up quickly and relief flooded Sirius. They had the locket back. And while he hadn't actually gotten to do anything, he'd been a part of it. Hopefully it was a sign that soon, the rest of the pieces would fall into place and they'd finish what Dumbledore had started.

#

Neville settled down to dinner, the excitement of beating Hufflepuff still thrumming through his veins. It was muted, slightly, when he glanced around the Gryffindor table and realized Harry wasn't there. Neither were Draco, Hermione or Ron. 

Harry's explanation for Ron's absence hadn't seemed to bother the rest of the team, especially since Devin had done a masterful job as Keeper. But it hadn't made sense to Neville. Madame Pomfrey could have fixed a sprained wrist with a flick of her wand. Even if she'd told him not to play, he would have been in the stands cheering them on. And, despite her disinterest in the game, Hermione never missed a match, either.

Which meant they were up to another of their secret missions. Neville mused about the possibilities while he ate. Despite his best intentions, when his mind wandered, so did his eyes and Neville found himself staring at Charlie. Who was smiling and laughing with Tonks, who'd replaced Lupin as the DADA professor.

The taste of the food he'd just bitten into, became sharp and pungent and unpalatable. Neville swallowed quickly and tore his eyes away from the head table before Charlie caught him pining. Charlie desperately wanted to help Neville, and Neville wanted to let him. But he'd been alone so much, always on the outside looking in, he refused to set himself up for the kind of disappointment he'd feel if he got too attached. 

Even now, his friends had shut him out of whatever they were doing.

He understood. He really did. There was so much going on and he wasn't exactly useful. Especially now. Harry could do all the Sentinel things, without worrying about the zones and spikes. 

Still, he thought he'd proved himself, at least a little, first at the Ministry and then protecting Sirius at the Willow. 

His gaze automatically sought out Charlie again, seeking comfort. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't get past that instinct. This time, Charlie was looking back, warmth and concern glowing in his expression. 

Appetite gone, Neville gave his Guide a tight smile and a half-hearted wave before pushing his plate away and heading back to the dorms. Hopefully, he'd get a few minutes peace and quiet before the rest of the Gryffindor's returned from dinner to start celebrating the win in earnest.

He tried to think about his Transfiguration essay, tried to forget about Charlie and Harry and the Sentinel stuff for a little while. But scents kept invading his nose. Especially a pungent metallic, rotting smell that seemed to grow as he got closer to Gryffindor tower. There was something unnatural about the smell and it made him uneasy and edgy.

Inside the dorm, Harry, Draco, Hermione and Ron huddled together in the common room over something that glinted gold on a square silk. Whatever it was, it was the source of the odor.

"That smells… foul," Neville blurted out. "Cursed."

Harry's eyes widened, and they all looked away guiltily. 

"Uh, yeah. But you're not actually suppose to know about this," Hermione said, wrapping whatever it was in the cloth and hiding it from view.

"I don't _know_ anything," he answered in exasperation. "Except. It smells familiar."

All four of them froze and stared at him. Finally Draco asked, "You've smelled something like this before? Where?"

"Yeah… it was… The Room of Requirement. When I hid from—" His throat tightened before he said Charlie's name. "When I hid."

Harry nodded, understanding softening his eyes. "Do you think you could get the room to open in the same place? Find whatever it was that smelled like this?"

Obviously, whatever it was, there was more than one. And this one wasn't the one from the Come and Go room.

"I think so." Neville sighed and steeled himself. "I'll probably need Charlie's help, though."

"Ron, go get Charlie," Harry said. "The rest of us will meet you on the seventh floor."

#

Pacing in front of the Room of Requirement, it wasn't hard for Neville to focus on finding someplace to hide. Harry, Draco, Ron, Hermione and Charlie all stood against the troll tapestry, eyes glued on him and he really just wanted to disappear from all that expectation. He usually screwed up spectacularly when people counted on him. He was much better when no one expected anything from him.

Finally, the door opened. The room was even more packed than he remembered. So much junk jammed and crushed into the space, even his eyes blurred trying to separate one object from another. Scents tangled together, old and musty, decaying as well as bright sparks of fresher odors. Random, creaking sounds of things falling slowly into other things, clocks ticking and furniture groaning under the weight of stuff piled on top of it.

His senses jumped from noise to scent to odd and intriguing shapes, over and over, the hammering of his heart slipping into the mix until he was losing himself in the riot…

Warmth on his back tugged at his awareness. The pressure of a large, firm, familiar hand pressed low on his spine.

"Easy, Neville," Charlie's voice whispered across his neck, grabbing his attention and holding it in away nothing else ever could. "Breathe. That's it. Focus on my voice. I've got you."

Just like that, everything smoothed out. The scents and sounds were automatically filtered and filed away. The jigsaw puzzle of shapes and colors resolved itself into clearly delineated jumbles of junk, the paths between clear and obvious. Every individual detail sharp and distinct, yet easy to deal with.

No longer overwhelmed, Neville took a deep breath, sorting and searching until he caught the faint hint of decay and copper. 

"Ready?" Charlie's voice was soft with concern and Neville could only nod.

He stepped forward, easing between the towering stacks of discarded junk following the scent, while trying to recall his path the first time. He'd been in a blind flight at the time, so sure he'd never be able to face Charlie ever again. So sure he'd never want to face anyone again. But the sense memory was still there. Charlie's touch, steady and uncompromising and his voice, a sure, unbroken stream of reassurance, let him recall every step and turn.

Neville felt sure and confident. His senses practically sang, reveling in the minute details he could discern instead of getting bogged down and trapped by the overwhelming input. It took less than five minutes to find the spot where he'd hunkered down, hiding from the world because he believed all hope was lost.

Eventually, he found the cupboard where he'd huddled pathetically. The scent was thick and cloying. He narrowed his focus until zeroing in on the cursed smell.

"That's it," he pointed at a tarnished tiara haphazardly tossed on a pile of junk nearby.

Charlie slipped his hand into the silk bag Hermione had given them, grabbed the crown with his fabric-covered fingers and pulled the bag inside out to completely cover the artifact.

When they emerged from the clutter four pensive, concerned faces waited in the hall. Then Charlie handed over the cloth wrapped crown, Harry sniffed and grinned. The simple smile was the signal the rest of them were waiting for because the hallway erupted into a mini party around them.

Hermione clapped her hands in satisfaction and laughed out loud. Ron and Draco actually high-fived. A sight that would have shocked Neville, if he wasn't still so bemused by how clear and sharp and amazing the world suddenly felt around him. It was the first time he'd let himself completely lean on Charlie without holding back. The first time he'd needed to. The difference was like someone had lit a torch in a pitch black cave.

"All right, Neville?" Harry asked softly. Too soft for anyone else to hear.

Neville couldn't help the way his eyes slid to Charlie and stuck there. 

"That was amazing," he whispered, in the same barely audible tone.

Harry's grin brightened and he looked at Draco, who was now deep in discussion with Hermione. "I know, right?"

What Harry had said before, about a Guide being like a key to his lock, came back to Neville, leaving him both exhilarated and terrified. That Charlie could make him feel like this, just by being close was a revelation.

But Charlie wouldn't be close by for long and then Neville would have to go back to stumbling in the dark, as far as his senses were concerned.


	6. Chapter 6

Sometimes Draco felt like the Universe was playing with them. For months, they'd searched and discussed and studied every obscure reference they could find, with no luck. Then, in the space of two days, they'd found two Horcruxes. It had seemed they were finally on the right track. Finally getting somewhere.

Then… nothing.

Weeks without a lead, an idea, or even a hint of a possibility.

Which was why he and Harry were on their way down to Snape's office. Hermione had had the bright idea of ransacking Dumbledore's office. She was sure the wily old man hadn't told him everything he knew and thought maybe there would be some clue just lying around for them to find. She left the petty details, like how to get into the magically sealed room, up to Harry and Draco.

Wishing something could be semi-easy for a change, Draco hoped to convince Snape to help. Considering they couldn't reveal exactly what they were looking for, though, he wasn't holding his breath. Severus wasn't the type to take it on faith.

Draco raised his hand to knock, but Harry stilled him after the fist rap on the wood. Head cocked and green eyes narrow and focused, it was obvious he was listening to something inside.

After, Harry's shoulders relaxed and his eyes cleared.

"What did you hear?"

"Not sure. Snape was talking to someone, but as soon as you knocked, it went silent."

The door opened and Snape's face was sharp with tension and anger, relaxing only a fraction when he saw who his guests were. The harsh frown turned into a resigned press of lips and he waved the two in, carefully locking the door behind them and resetting his wards.

At first glance, the room was empty. Then Draco caught sight of Sirius Black's green tinged face floating in the fireplace, looking just as angry and frustrated as Snape.

"Sirius," Harry greeted the disembodied head with warm affection, before concern crept in. "What's going on? Is something wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, except _Severus_ is being stubborn, impulsive and self-sacrificing. If I didn't know better, I'd say he's acting like a Gryffindor."

Snape's lip curled and his arms crossed as he glared into the flames. "There's no need to be insulting, Black. I wasn't asking for your input, just informing you of my discovery and intentions, so you could be prepared in case I fail."

"What discovery? Fail at what?" Harry asked, confusion wrinkling his forehead while he glanced between the fire and Snape.

"I believe I have discovered the whereabouts of Lupin. Voldemort will be visiting the werewolf enclave sometime in the next few days and he let slip enough that I can at least narrow down its location. I am going to try to retrieve both Lupin and the snake."

"And I'm trying to convince him that it should be me who goes. Once I'm close, I'll be able to use the tracking Incacha taught me to find the enclave. I am expendable, in case anything goes wrong. He'll be missed at the school, at least, if not by anyone else. You may be good at being sneaky, but in a fight, you always end up pantsed."

Harry opened his mouth, no doubt to protest Sirius being expendable, but Snape cut in first.

"I think, in this particular instance, stealth and cunning might be more productive than mindless violence and brute force."

And they were off again, sniping and insulting each other, each convinced they were better prepared to mount an impossible rescue.

Minutes passed and Harry grew increasingly tense by his side while Draco just got pissed at the ridiculousness of the two grown men. At their worst, he and Harry had never been this childish and they were teenagers.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, man up, both of you," Draco shouted at the two squabbling men. "You both need to go. It's going to take stealth and force in order to succeed. So you'll just have to suck it up and learn to work together instead of trying to one up each other."

Sirius made an irritated grunt, but Snape was already talking over him. "Mr. Malfoy—"

"I think Draco's right. It will work with both of you. It's only a week until Easter break starts, so if you're not back by Monday, Tonks can cover your potion's classes for a few days while Charlie covers Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Tonks?" Snape sounded strangled when he repeated the name.

"Just set her up with some review lessons. It's not like anybody pays attention the week before a break, anyway."

"They do in my classroom," Snape said stiffly. "However, perhaps you're right. Sirius, I'll be there in an hour. Be ready to Apparate when I arrive."

Sirius rolled his eyes but his head disappeared from the flames.

"Now, what brought you two to my door?"

"We need to get into Dumbledore's office," Harry blurted out.

Snape glared at them suspiciously. "Why, pray tell, do you feel you should be allowed in to the Headmaster's private sanctuary?"

"Uh, because, there's something we need to figure out." Harry stared at his foot while he explained, leaving Draco to try to look serious and sincere under Snape's scowl. "But we're stuck. We're hoping he left a clue. Or something."

"Or something. I see. Planning thoroughly as always, Potter." He pinched his nose and shook his head. "I'm afraid I can't help you."

"Professor Snape," Draco step forward with his hands spread and eyes wide and earnest, hoping to find the words to convince his Head of House. "We really are—"

"Save the dramatics, Draco. I said I _can't_ help. The password randomly changes at noon every third day. No one has been able to get in since the Headmaster was incapacitated."

"Oh." The word escaped Harry with a deflated breath. Desperation and defeat sagged along their bond, and Draco step back to press his shoulder supportingly into his Sentinel's.

"It's okay. Every time we think we've run out of ideas, something pops up. I used to curse your luck. Now I depend on it."

Harry gave him a half smile and Snape ushered them out of his room to begin packing.

#

They shuffled back to the library, Hermione jumped up expectantly. Ron continued to doodle on his parchment. Neville and Charlie, who'd been given a full explanation of the Horcruxes, looked up from where they pretended not to be mooning over one another.

Harry remained brooding and silent, so Draco shook his head and watched Hermione's expression fall with disappointment.

"He won't help at all?" she whispered when they got close enough not to disturb Pince with their conversation.

Harry sighed, finally speaking. "He doesn't know, either."

They quickly shared everything they'd learned in Snape's office with their somber little group.

For a minute, Hermione's pursed lips echoed Harry's sulk. Then she lifted her chin, determination smoothing out her features.

"All right then, let's think this through. What do we know about You-Know-Who and what he did with…" She glanced around but the library was mostly empty. "What he did with the… things?

They all looked from one to another and back in silence.

"I'll start, then," Hermione huffed. "The diary was first. I think it was supposed to go back to the Chamber of Secrets, which, obviously was a place he felt powerful."

"He killed Moaning Myrtle with the Basilisk to make the Diary right? Does that have anything to do with it?" Ron piped up, then flushed red when everyone stared. Dropping his chin to his chest, the mumbled, "I mean, we think he killed that poor tramp to make one of the Horcruxes, right? Maybe it was the locket, since it got left at the cave where he terrorized the orphans?"

"Yes, I suppose," Hermione said slowly. "But what about the ring? He probably killed Riddle, Sr. to make it. But he left it at Gaunt's shack."

Draco blinked when it started to come together for him, too. Sometimes they did not give Weasley enough credit. "Well, Riddle was his father but Merope Gaunt was his mother and that's where his magic and his connection to Salazar Slytherin came from."

"But how is the Diadem connected to the Room of Requirements?"

"Ravenclaw," Hermione muttered pawing through her folder and pulling out a couple of pages.

"What?"

Hermione blinked at them.

"Oh. I meant, Rowena Ravenclaw is believed to have been instrumental in designing the school. It would have taken someone with her skill in magical architecture to create something like the Room of Requirement."

She shifted one of the sheets of paper, a newspaper article, to the center of the table. "Remember when we were trying to track You-Know-Who's missing years? And that Albanian con-artist who claimed to be related to Ravenclaw?"

Draco looked at Harry, who shrugged. Not helpful at all. So he hedged. "Uh, vaguely?"

Hermione rolled her eyes so hard, Draco thought he heard them rattle in their sockets. "Albania? Where the Grey Lady took the Diadem? The con-artist probably found it. That's how she fooled people. He had to kill her to get the crown, and even if she wasn't related to Ravenclaw, the symbolism was enough for him. Then he put it in the Room of Requirement, no doubt he thought he was the only one who knew about it."

"Oh. Right," Draco leaned forward, ticking through what they already knew and what it could mean. "If Dumbledore was right about what You-Know-Who used, that leaves Nagini and Helga Hufflepuff's cup. Nagini was a desperation move after he returned, wanting to finish his attempt at immortality before going after Harry again. So, you got anything on Helga or her chalice?"

Hermione smiled, and pushed the second piece of paper she'd pulled out. "Hepzibah Smith. We _know_ he stole the cup from her. And killed her, no matter what that poor house elf confessed to. Also, of course, she claimed to be descended from Helga."

"Of course," Ron muttered, but Draco was already looking at the copy of the obituary Hermione was tapping excitedly while she talked.

The page was dominated with a photo of Smith's mausoleum in Wales. Designed and built as tribute to her famous ancestor. There was no way Voldemort could have resisted such an obvious or ostentatious hiding place.

A thrum of hope and excitement zinged through Draco, and, though he was just as exhilarated, he recognized the emotions weren't his own.

Turning his head, Harry's face was only inches from his while the Sentinel read over his shoulder. The smile Harry flashed was bright and happy in a way that took Draco's breath away.

"We've got it, Draco. We've got him. We get the cup, Snape gets the snake and then we get him."

Before Draco could think, Harry leaned in, pressing their lips together in a sweet kiss, right there in the middle of the library. Draco's hands slid up into dark hair as he opened and shifted closer.

A slightly too loud throat-clearing startled them apart. Charlie tried to look stern while the rest of their table hid giggles behind their hands.

"As a member of the faculty, I think it's my duty to remind you of the school's policy against public displays of affection."

Draco's cheeks heated but Harry just made a rude gesture and they dived in to making plans in earnest.

#

Despite his growing sense of urgency, the others managed to convince Harry to wait out the week. Now it was Friday, again, and classes were done for the next ten days. No one would notice if he and Draco weren't around for awhile. Especially with Hermione and the others running interference for them.

So, just after sunset, he and Draco finally Apparated on the outskirts of the cemetery that was Hepzibah Smith's final resting place. Her mausoleum dominated the simple, rural cemetery. A grey marble monstrosity twice the size of the Dursley's house fronted with a wide staircase and an ornate door large enough for a troll to walk easily through. A ring of hedges surrounded it, keeping the other graves from encroaching on its gaudy solitude.

"Well?" Draco elbowed him. "Anything weird or can we go get the cup?"

Harry let loose his senses and reported to his Guide. "I don't see any obvious traps. Just the normal sounds of the night. I keep getting whiffs of the Hocrux's putrid scent. It's gotta' be inside."

Draco nodded. "I tried the reveal charm Hermione dug up, they show nothing. Ready to risk it?"

"Let's go."

The second they stepped through the break in the hedge, the wind picked up around them. Every step along the path to the tomb, they were buffeted by increasingly powerful gusts until the air itself became a whirling nightmare.

It ripped at them, tugging and twisting, blinding them with the dust and debris, deafening them with the wild moaning. Harry and Draco clung to each other, trying to push ahead but every step forward was hard fought and excruciating.

"Harry, look!"

Draco pointed at the large grey figure hovering in front of the mausoleums doors. Harry focused in only to realize it was a ghost. If the elaborate hair and corpulent form were anything to go by, it was the spirit of the tomb's owner. Hepzibah Smith.

Maybe they could reason with her. Surely she had no more love for Voldemort than they did.

"Madam Smith, please. We must get into your tomb. We mean no harm or disrespect. You must let us in."

Her expression remained frozen and unimpressed. "None may enter. Voldemort set a geas on my spirit. I am forced to remain here and protect this place as long as he lives."

"We're trying to stop him. If you let us pass, we can get to him and end your geas."

"It's impossible. He's done unspeakable things to make himself immortal."

"Not immortal. Just really, really hard to kill. But what's inside is one the last pieces we need in order to reverse what he's done."

The wind eased, letting them breathe easier but it still whipped and bit cruelly into them.

"You know? Know what abominable things he'd done to his soul? Know what he's desecrated my tomb with?"

"We know," Draco made an effort to step away, but Harry grasped at his arm to hold him close. "We know, and what's more, we know how to stop him."

"The geas, I cannot defy it." Draco's shoulders slumped and Harry shifted closer. "But I think I can resist it for a time."

"Please, we only need a minute."

"That's good. A minute is all I can give you. Hurry now."

The wind dropped to a soft breeze, though the grating moans became a scream of agony as Hepzibah fought against the magic of the geas.

"C'mon!" Draco grabbed his arm and ran for the steps.

It took both of them, pulling and tugging with all their might to get the giant door open. Inside, there was nothing but smooth marble and a giant, polished onyx sarcophagus.

"Where is it? Harry can you sense anything?"

Scent was all he had to go on. And the odor curled out from under the lid of Hepzibah's tomb.

"No. Oh, no." Draco shivered when he saw where Harry's eyes landed and he stepped back. "Divided souls are one thing, but a corpse?"

"There's no time, Draco."

Outside, the screams were becoming hoarse, despite the fact that there was no flesh to become raw, and the sound of the wind picked up.

Harry tried to shift the lid by himself, but it was even heavier than the door had been.

"Draco, please."

With a groan, his Guide stepped up next to him, putting his shoulder into it. Together, they moved it few inches until the rotting stench threatened to overwhelm Harry's nose. He looked down in to the space they'd made and there it was.

Curled up in the grasp of magically preserved fingers. Harry swallowed the bile of disgust, wrapped his hand in silk and grabbed the cup. It took two good tugs, accompanied by the sounds of finger bones cracking and Draco retching, to free it from the body's death-grip.

"I've got it," he shouted over the screams and rapidly rising wind. He wrapped it in silk and tucked it away before grabbing Draco and pulling him close. Outside, the wind had become a punishing whirlwind once again, but, this time, it worked in their favor. The force pushed them away from the mausoleum, nearly picking them up off their feet until they tumbled into an ungraceful heap beyond the hedge barrier.

Inside, the wind whimpered into extinction and Hepzibah Smith hovered a few seconds longer before she, too, faded away.

"Well, that wasn't anything like I expected," Draco tried to laugh but it became more of a shudder.

Harry leaned in, wrapping his arms around his Draco, relieved they were still whole and together. "At least they weren't Inferi."

Draco shivered again, but this time his laugh sounded a little less panicked.

Then the sight of another silvery figure coming from the edge of the cemetery had Harry scrambling to his feet, angling himself between in and his Guide. It took a second for the adrenaline to bleed off enough for him to recognize it wasn't another ghost but the shimmering terrier form of Ron's Patronus.

"We need you at Headquarters, as soon as possible."

Ron's words echoed around them, sounding urgent and breathless, then the dog disappeared.

#

The kitchen of 12 Grimmauld Place was a mad house when Draco walked in the door behind Harry. Ignoring his Sentinel's attempt to shield him from the commotion, he stepped around Harry to see what was going on.

Snape and Charlie grappled with a hooded, thrashing Nagini, holding on for all they were worth while they tried to direct it into the huge terrarium. Sirius, in scruffy Animagus form, bounced around them, excitedly barking at the reptile, instigating even more wild flailing.

"Ron, a little help, here?" Charlie shouted at his brother, who stood, wide-eyed and slack-jawed at the edge of the fray. "Grab its tail!"

The appendage in question slammed hard against floor, rattling the whole house. Ron jumped back another three feet, staring at the animal in fear and confusion.

"I don't think I can. It's stronger and faster than I am."

Instead, Sirius lunged at the hooded head Snape was trying to shove in the right direction of the cage, causing it to rear back, nearly knocking the Professor off his feet.

"Would someone shut that mutt up?" he snarled.

"Sirius, now isn't the time." McGonagall's sharp rebuke snapped and she stepped away from the far wall, where Draco hadn't noticed everyone else huddling out of the way. Hermione and Neville clung together behind her, cringing from every wild convulsion of the scaly body. On the floor next to them someone slumped, head on his knees and somehow ignoring or oblivious to the commotion around him.

Another twisting blow of Nagini's tail knocked Charlie off his feet, though he managed to keep his grip. It looked like a scene out of some theatrical comic farce. Draco bit his lip to hold back the laughter that threatened at the ridiculousness only because Harry's exasperated frustration was seeping through.

Then the Sentinel stepped forward, hissing several sharp syllables. The giant snake stopped thrashing and the room dropped suddenly into eerie silence.

Harry hissed again and the snake shifted, sliding smoothly into the glass cage and coiling into a quiet heap before going completely still. Snape closed the terrarium then slumped next to Charlie, both men trying to catch their breath.

The last time Draco had heard Parseltongue, he'd been too terrified to breathe. This time, the shiver that worked its way done his spine had nothing to do with fear. Sliding closer, he pressed against Harry's side.

The man on the floor lifted his and a smile pulled at his gaunt features. "Harry. It's good to see you."

"Remus!"

Draco felt Harry's relief and hope shimmer between them as the Sentinel sprinted across the room to pull the man into a solid hug. Remus Lupin was alive and back in Harry's little cobbled together family. Snape and Sirius had succeeded in rescuing the werewolf as well as capturing the snake.

It took awhile to get everything sorted out. The terrarium levitated to an empty storage room, Snape, Charlie and Sirius got cleaned up and their various wounds sorted out. Professor McGonagall passed hot tea around when they'd all settled at the table.

"They never actually realized who I was. The enhanced polyjuice and Otoronco's techniques worked perfectly. Unfortunately, the trick to change my scent worked a little too well. I apparently smelled like a former rival of the enclave's pack leader. He was convinced I was somehow related. He kept me imprisoned in a make-shift cage and tried to get me to reveal the whereabouts of his enemy."

He sipped at his tea and picked at the sandwich someone had pushed in front of him.

"With Voldemort visiting the enclave, I was worried he'd somehow see through the glamour. When the commotion started I was sure my luck had run out. Instead, Padfoot showed up with the keys and freed me. I was even more surprised to when he led me to a clearing, only to find Snape with Nagini."

"How did you manage to get the snake away from You-Know-Who?" Ron asked.

"It took us a few days to sniff out where the werewolves were holed up," Sirius explained, holding his tea cup like it was a tankard of ale. Snape rolled his eyes and leaned back and let Black have the spotlight.

"'Course, by the time we got there, old snake-face and his Death Eaters were everywhere. So Snape had me change into my Animagus form and then charmed me to look more like a wolf than a dog. I wandered around, biting Death Eaters and gettin'em to turn on the werewolves. They didn't even question the fact that it wasn't a full moon."

He laughed and swallowed half the contents of his cup, then frowned down at it like it he'd forgotten it was just tea.

"Snape helped by shooting the occasional jinx at unsuspecting werewolves. Once we had the whole camp at each other's throats, we used the distraction to get in and get out. I snagged the keys off the pack leader, who was busy snarling at Lestrange. No one even noticed Lupin was gone. Not sure how Snape got the snake, but old Moldy-pants was hollerin' for her by the time we got out of there."

"I set a trap and when she slithered into it, the hood slid over her head. It confused her long enough that I could drag her to rendezvous point." Snape rubbed his arm where Draco had applied healing balm to a particularly nasty bruise that covered his forearm. "Unfortunately, her confusion didn't last. Harry arrived just in time to intervene."

Harry blushed and ducked his head. "The hard part was getting her here. Now we have Remus back. And Draco and I were successful as well."

Hermione smiled and looked satisfied, Ron, Charlie and Neville all grinned at each other until the three professors starting looking suspicious.

Draco cleared his throat, trying to distract them before they started asking inconvenient questions.

"So, now we just have to get the venom and make the antidote to bring Dumbledore back."

"Unfortunately, that will still take a bit of time," Snape said.

"What?" Harry demanded. "Why?"

"Because it will take several days to collect enough venom to create the antidote and then a full moon cycle to brew."

The room drooped into deflated silence. It would still be several weeks before Dumbledore could be revived. Before they could end the threat of Voldemort once and for all.

"Remus, is there anything else of import you discovered you'd like to share before you get a good night's sleep?" McGonagall asked, looking sharply at the exhausted werewolf.

Remus smiled wanly, head dipping in acknowledgment that he was barely holding on to consciousness.

"I'm afraid my captors did not feed me regularly on top of… other ordeals. I had to use most of my physical resources to keep my identity a secret. Eventually the exertion caught up with my, and I found myself sleeping most of the time. I caught bits and pieces from Voldemort and Pettigrew when they passed close by my cage at one point, but none of it really made much sense. Perhaps once I rest and catch up on what has been going on here, I'll be able to piece it together better."

After that, there was little left to say and it was a slightly less excited group that separated for their various destinations. The professors and students returned to Hogwarts and Sirius helped Remus to a guest room to rest.

#

The next morning, the Entrance Hall was a chaotic mess of students, luggage and faculty members. Harry edge closer to the wall and pressed his shoulder against Draco's, letting the presence of his Guide smooth away the roughest edges of the sensations threatening to overwhelm him. Neville stood on Draco's other side, the three of them staying out of Hermione's way while she tried to wrangle the exodus into some semblance of order.

He really wished they could have  stayed the night at Grimmauld Place, no one would have missed them in this crush.

Except, of course, they would. He was Harry fucking Potter. People noted it when he ducked out to go to the bathroom. If he or his friends were not where they were supposed to be this morning, Voldemort might jump to conclusions. It would be bad enough if he somehow tied them to what happened at the werewolf enclave, it would be even worse if he somehow figured out they'd been Horcrux hunting. They weren't ready to face him yet.

They had all the Horcruxes, but they couldn't do anything with them until Snape finished Dumbledore's potion.

"Okay there, Neville?" Hermione's voice cut through the noise and Harry turned.

Neville's eyes were glassy and his hands clenched so tight his knuckles were stark white. Harry twisted, scanning for Charlie in the crowd outside the door and catching only a faint glimpse him calming one of the Thestrals. Taking Neville to him now would only call attention to them.

"All right, let's get out here until the carriages are ready and the crowd starts moving."

Hermione winced, looking torn. "But I'm Head Girl. It's my responsibility…"

"It's your responsibility to see to an unwell student," Draco smirked, nudging her toward the stairs. "Ernie is keeping the first years from getting trampled and Professor McGonagall is getting everyone organized. Ron and the other Prefects are getting all the luggage loaded. They won't miss you."

They kept heading up the stairs, moving farther up and farther away until they found nothing but deserted hallways. The lines of tension eased out of Neville's shoulders and even Harry relaxed in the relative peace while they wandered the corridors.

When they passed the gargoyle guarding Dumbledore's office, he couldn't help stopping. Hoping.

"Acid pops," he tried, frowning when the entrance stayed stubbornly closed. "Sherbet lemon."

"Harry, what are you doing?"

"Got nothing better to do for the next hour or so. Wouldn't hurt if we could bring all the… things… with us when we leave." He shrugged and faced the gargoyle again.

"Cockroach clusters. Fizzing whizbees. Toffee éclairs."

Frustration rose with every failure.

"Harry…" Draco shuffled closer.

"I know. It's just… Damn it." He kicked the wall. "Dumbledore said 'You will find that help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it.' Well, I'm asking. Where's my help?"

Before he even finished speaking, the gargoyle moved to the side.

They all stared at it for too long, before Draco chuckled and skipped through the opening. "Always the hero, Harry. Can't help showing of, huh?"

With a laugh, Harry lunged after Draco, racing him to the top, while Neville and Hermione trailed behind. As soon as they opened the heavy door , though, a cacophony of voices assaulted them.

"Who goes there?"

"This is a private office."

"Student's had better manners in my day…"

The portraits continued to shout, devolving into an argument among themselves over who had the right to speak first until Harry's head wanted to burst from the noise.

"ENOUGH."

When the room dropped into silence, it was an unnerving relief. Harry shuffled his feet but refused to be intimidated by the centuries of decorum glaring at him.

"Look, Dumbledore's been hurt but you all know he set me a task. I'm here trying to finish it."

A soft wave of half-hearted agreement rolled from portrait to portrait. Harry glanced around the room, filled with hundreds of unnamable objects and decided to use the captive resource to narrow down the search "Does anyone know where he might have left a diary and a signet ring?"

Another rumble of murmurs passed from portrait to portrait until Armando Dippet cleared his throat.

"He's always puttering with something or other. Unless it smokes or sparks, we don't really pay attention."

Harry sighed.

"It's never the easy way, is it?"

"Don't worry, Harry. They're here somewhere. We just need to be methodical." Hermione said, her usual brusque authority snapping into place. "Neville you take the shelves. Draco, you sort through the tables on that half of the room. Harry, you take the other side. I'll check his desk.

Hermione started methodically sorting through the piles of papers, Neville carefully studied the shelf behind it, hands tucked behind his back like he was afraid he'd break anything he touched. Draco smirked at Harry and shrugged before moving across the room.

He'd made it through about half the tables when unexpected singing startled him.

 

_A sight to see before me_

_Gryffindor, daring bold and brave,_

_Gathered with sly Slytherin_

_The times, I fear, are grave._

_But cunning hearts together_

_Certainly this world will save._

The Sorting Hat finished with a little flourish that might have been a bow before twisting around toward Neville.

"Neville Longbottom. I remember you. Wanted to be a Hufflepuff. Would have been a waste. You agree with me now, don't you?"

Neville stood in front of the hat, mouth open.

"I… suppose…"

"Nonsense. Take me down and I'll show you a trick that only a true Gryffindor can do."

Raising his arm slowly, Neville carefully gripped the fabric. It wiggled in his hand slightly and he dropped it, catching it at the last second. Then his face paled and he pulled one hand away. In his grasp, a shining sword slid out of the hat. Harry's eyes darted to the wall and realized Gryffindor's sword no longer hung in its place.

"There you are. Only a Gryffindor can call Godric's sword. Though, once called, it can't be returned until it completes its task. Hold onto it until then, Neville."

"Uh. Okay. What's its task?"

"That is for it, and you, to find." The animated lump of fabric twisted, and if it had eyes, Harry would have sworn it was looking at him. "And speaking of finding things, sometimes we need to remember things we never knew in order to find the things we did."

With the last, cryptic message, the hat went silent and still, crumpling into nothing more than ancient head wear once again.

"Does that thing always have to talk in riddles? How does one remember something they never knew?" Draco asked, glowering at the hat while Neville carefully replaced it on the shelf. "And how are we going to sneak that sword out without everyone noticing?"

"Memories," Harry mused. "I've actually remembered a lot of things in this room. Things that I didn't actually experience or know. The Pensieve."

He crossed to the black cabinet and tugged open the door. Inside, the Pensieve sat right where he remembered. The ring and the diary were there, as well. Once he had them tucked away safely, Harry reached in one more time and pulled out a plain looking scabbard.

"This might help at least disguise the sword a little", he said and handed it to Neville.

The sword slid into place like they were meant to be together. Then it shimmered in Neville's hands and disappeared.

"Where did it go?" Hermione demanded.

Neville curled his fingers around air. "It's still here. It's just invisible."

"Huh. Well that's helpful." Draco shrugged. "If we're done here? It won't do us any good to miss the train if we're trying not to call attention to ourselves."

They shuffled out the door, but Hermione's eyes caught on a portrait as they passed.

"Wait."

She stopped dead and Harry had to brace them both when he ran into her.

"What? What's wrong?"

"Headmaster Fortescue." She pointed at a dozing portrait ear trumpet, whose eyes lifted lazily when he heard his name.

"Yes?"

"What can you tell us about the Rosamunde labyrinth?"

The portrait sleepy look was replaced with suspicion. "That information is dangerous. Too dangerous to share."

"We know. But You-Know-Who has one of your descendants and we think he may be trying to use the  maze somehow. If we're going to stop him, we need to know what he knows."

The portrait pinched its lips and Harry was afraid it would stubbornly refuse to answer. Finally, though it relented, looking reluctant.

"It is a place of great power, though the maze itself is resistant to all magic. It's a nexus of power that comes and goes, appearing where the major leylines come together. "

"Great so where is it? And when will it appear?"

"I don't know. The leylines shift from year to year as the power of the world shifts. The world is much different now than when I first discovered it. As to when, according to legend, it appears 'When the God of War meets the Bull, on the heels of the wolf's moon.'"

"What does that mean?"

But the former headmaster walked out of the frame, leaving them once again with questions and puzzles and no more answers.

#

Neville sat cross-legged on his bed at Grimmauld Place, trying to meditate and failing. He's eyes kept drifting to the empty spot on the wall. No one could see it, but he knew exactly where Godric Gryffindor's sword hung. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't forget about it. Or about the cryptic message it came with.

It had been in his possession for almost a week now and he still had no idea what he was supposed to do with it. Wasn't even sure that it wasn't some mistake. Surely Harry was the one who should wield the arcane weapon.

When he wasn't thinking about the vague, mystical sword, his brain automatically settled on Charlie. His roommate, now.

Along with the usual residents, Ron and Hermione were staying for the week and Ginny and Luna had come to visit for a couple of days, as well. With so many people at Headquarters for Easter break, they'd had to double up. A Sentinel sharing a room with his Guide had seemed perfectly normal.

It was both amazing and nerve-wracking. They'd go to bed each night carefully not touching but they woke up every morning wrapped around each other. Neville's senses sang and he'd never felt so alive and comfortable in his own skin. He was certain they'd slid into the beginnings of a bond but he would never, ever admit it.

The end of the year raced towards them and he had every intention of letting Charlie leave without knowing how very much Neville had already grown to adore him.

Shouts echoed up from the lower level and Neville shot to his feet, senses stretching.

"How the hell did it escape?"

"It doesn't matter now, we have to get it back in its cage before it gets out of the House."

"Harry, oh Merlin look out."

Without thinking, Neville grabbed the sword from the wall and headed down the stairs.

The parlor was a scene of chaos. Draco was helping Harry back to his feet and Nagini slithered in the opposite direction. Sirius and Snape jumped in to herd her away from where Hermione, Luna and Ginny huddled by the window and Charlie planted himself between the snake and the girls.

Nagini hissed and lunged at Sirius, but Snape erected a barrier so the dangerous fangs closed on nothing but air. She recoiled, rearing up, readying to strike again.

At the last second, the snake twisted, darting away. Lunging right for Charlie.

Neville didn't think. Didn't even breathe. He just reacted. Sword slid out of its scabbard and body jumping, arm raising and blade singing in one fluid motion.

The sword sliced cleanly through and the snake's head made a dull thud when it bounced once on the carpet.

Once the threat was gone, Neville dropped the sword and turned. His hands ran over every inch of Charlie, his eyes searching for any wound. It took a few minutes to thoroughly catalog every inch of his Guide and reassure himself the man was unharmed.

Only when he was satisfied that the snake hadn't even touch Charlie, did he realize the room had descended into a weird, uncomfortable silence. Everyone was watching him feel up Charlie with varying expressions of amusement and bewilderment.

"Uh, sorry. Got carried away." He pressed his hand over Charlie's heart one last time before trying to step away.

"Don't worry about it," Harry chuckled, and wrapped his arm across Draco's shoulders. "I've been there."

Charlie's arms wound around Neville's waist and tugged him back in before he could move too far away. "Oh, no you don't. It's my turn to make sure you're okay."

Neville's face burned with embarrassment but he submitted to Charlie's examination, only half-listening to the conversation around him.

"…snake was more cunning than I expected. Acted sluggish after each venom extraction. Today I let down my guard when I finished and she made a break for it," Snape explained.

"Did we get enough?"

"Yes, I should be able to brew the potion with some left over."

When Charlie was satisfied, he shifted closer and pulled until they rested forehead to forehead. Neville felt like he should say something, but he had no words. Instead, for once, he let himself sink into the sensation. Let his Guide hold him and pretend the rest of the world didn't exist.


	7. Chapter 7

Draco stood to the side, listening to Snape, Sirius and Hermione discuss the potion. The conversation flowed around him while he watched Charlie and Neville. He knew exactly how they felt. His hand tightened on Harry's and he leaned into his Sentinel. They'd already had way too many close calls. They needed to get rid of Voldemort as soon as possible, so the life-and-death situations could take a backseat to arguing over who hogged the covers.

With that in mind, he murmured, "Harry, we need to be alone with the snake. Soon."

The connection was still vividly there, just like with the diary. But the snake had been a living creature, which meant decay would set in swiftly, and Draco had no idea what would happen to the magic then. If they missed their chance at this piece of the soul, then they would fail.

"Uh, right," Harry whispered back, then spoke to the rest of the room. "Um, we'll take care of the clean up. Professor Snape, you should concentrate on the potion. And Sirius, maybe you should go check on Remus. Make sure all this commotion didn't disturb him."

Snape narrowed his eyes and Sirius just flashed a knowing grin. Both knew there was more going on, but neither of them pressed.

Hermione's brow furrowed demandingly at them and Draco gave the snake a significant look. Her face brightened when she caught on. "Uh, right. Ginny, Luna, maybe it would be better if you Flooed home. Let the boys deal with this mess."

Ginny tried to protest while Luna wondered aloud if snakes became ghosts but Hermione herded them out of the room.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Draco was in motion. "We need to clear the furniture out of the way so we can create a circle around the snake."

The room was ready by the time Hermione returned a few minutes later, alone and carrying the satchel where they'd stored the remaining Horcruxes. She locked and warded the door, then set the bag down inside the circle with a shrug.

"I figured as long as we were doing one, we might as well do them all. Unless you'll need to rest between?"

"No, I should be able to do it all at once. I need complete silence though. It takes a lot of concentration to drag an uncooperative soul back to this plane."

He pulled the soul-catcher out from where he kept it tucked under his shirt, cradling it in both hands. Then he stepped inside the circle, activating its protective charms so it blazed orange around him and let his sight slide into the other way of seeing.

The thread was thinner than ones trailing way from the ring and other inanimate objects. When Nagini had been alive, it had been hard to distinguish within her aura. With her death, it became much easier to see, and to follow into the nebulous haze of one of the lower plains of existence. Heavy darkness encompassed him and he tensed, waiting. But this plane was barren. No predators or faeries or ghosts hid in its shadows. Which made sense. Hiding something precious worked best if no one and nothing was around to find it. Or eat it.

The strand of connection glowed soft yellow in the endless night and Draco's awareness walked for miles until he found it. A flat gray the snake shaped soul-piece coiled in the ebony air. He coaxed it, cooed at it, demanded and herded it until he tugged it back to the parlor of 12 Grimmauld Place. The snake-shape darted around the protective circle, searching for a way to escape. But Draco's magic was stronger.

He held up the disk, and chanted the words Incacha had taught him until the soul-piece was dragged onto the soul-catcher, becoming a dark grey, snake-shaped smudge on the porcelain bone.

The corpse of the snake immediately burst into flames and Draco stumbled backwards, remembering only at the last second not to breach the circle. It took only a few second before the body was reduced to a handful of ash. The carpet underneath, however, remained intact. Not even a scorch mark.

Outside the circle he heard Ron ask, "Is that suppose to happen?"

"I don't know," Hermione whispered, though Draco could hear her curiosity and excitement and knew she was biting back a hundred questions

Draco didn't bother to answer, because he didn't know either. Instead he reached into the satchel pulled out a silk wrapped Horcrux and placed it in the pile of dust that had once been Nagini. He stepped away, used a charm to unwrap it, then followed the yellow string once more into the darkened plane.

He was tired already, but he pushed through. The sooner he finished, the sooner the world would be free. One by one he called them back, each unique shape etching itself onto the bone soul-catcher, fitting into the previous places like some twisted puzzle. Each journey into the endless darkness sapped a little more of his energy. When the last Horcrux joined the growing pile of ash, the shapes had fitted themselves until the bone disk was nearly covered in a dull gray patina. Except for a spot in the center, shaped like a blank eye, with no iris or pupil and…

"Oh, no."

Draco's heart hammered. It wasn't possible. It couldn't mean…

"Draco? What is it? What's wrong?"

Harry's fear and concern rushed between them and Draco knew it was taking everything his Sentinel had not to breach the protective circle. Draco waved his hand, disbanding the power and letting the orange glow fade.

Harry was by his side in a second, one hand making soothing circles on Draco's back while the other lightly gripped his shoulder.

"Didn't it work?"

"It worked. Each of the shapes fitted together perfectly. But there are pieces missing."

"Of course there's a piece missing." Hermione said. "You-Know-Who still has a piece inside of him."

"I know. I'm pretty sure that's this piece in the middle shaped like an eye." He moved his thumb and pointed to another spot where the bone showed through the gray. "But then there's this piece here."

Ron leaned over his shoulder and blurted out "It looks like a lightning bolt."

Draco pressed his lips into a tight line and held back the shudder of fear. "I know."

Then he turned to look at Harry. His Sentinel was pale and pressed fingers to his forehead in disbelief.

#

"Are we sure?" Ron blurted out. "I mean, I know the lightning bolt… but maybe it means something else?"

Draco wished he felt the curl of hope lacing Ron's voice, but he'd already shifted his sight. Like Nagini, the strand leading away from Harry was thinner, paler. Even looking for it now, knowing it was there, it was almost easy to miss. Harry's magic and aura were so strong, they obscured it.

"Yes. I'm sure. I'm sorry I didn't see it before."

Harry nodded, looking dazed.

"You-Know-Who must have seriously destabilized his soul by splitting it so much. The magic released when he failed to kill Harry coupled with the power of killing Lily must have broken his soul again…" Hermione chattered in the background, her usual stream of consciousness jumping into logic and conjecture faster than the rest of them could simply process the truth. "Obviously, he didn't know it happened, or he wouldn't have made Nagini once he returned."

Across the room Harry's body shifted, tensed. The confusion gave way to understanding. Icy despair settled in Draco's gut while he watched green eyes harden with resolution. Felt resignation harden in Harry's heart. Along with grief and regret.

Draco shook his head, denying the foregone conclusion while everyone tried hard not to look at the pile of ash in the center of the room.

"No." Draco wasn't ready to give in, to give up. He glared at Harry, ignoring the pleading look. Ignoring the pitying looks of everyone else in the room.

Harry spread his hands at his sides, flexing his fingers. "'Neither can live while the other survives.' We always knew it might come to this…"

"SHUT UP," Draco roared and launched himself at Harry. He wrapped his body around his Sentinel, and burrowed into the hard chest, holding on with every bit of strength he had left. Pressing his face tight against Harry's neck he whispered, "Shut up, shut up, shut up."

"I'm sorry, Draco." He held on just as tight, like they could absorb into each other if they just squeezed hard enough.

"Don't be sorry. We are not done, yet. We will figure this out."

Harry sighed, and the sound vibrated between them. "Draco. I'm a Horcrux. We need the soul-piece to destroy Voldemort. You have to call it back."

"And watch you go up in flames?" Draco tilted his head to glare defiantly. "You're asking me to murder you."

"No. Voldemort did that sixteen years ago. I've just been too stubborn to notice." Harry's lips quirked but Draco didn't see any humor in it. "I'm asking you to save the world."

"Fuck the world. What do I care about it if you're not in it?"

"Draco…"

"Just. Shut. Up. We've got time. Just shut up and let me think for a little while."

"We don't have much time left."

"There's time enough. You faced the impossible to save me once, give me a chance to do… the… same…"

He trailed off, remembering the aftermath of his drowning, of Harry chasing him through the blue forest of another plane. Of the two of them coming together, their souls touching until Harry dragged him back from the brink of death.

"Damn it."

He pushed away from Harry and started pacing while things clicked into place.

_Sometimes a piece must be carried away, before it can be reclaimed. Sometimes we must journey to where our hearts are whole, before the soul can be set free._

"Crazy, cryptic shaman. Can't just say 'take him to the blue forest,' oh, no. Always got to be talking in riddles."

"Draco?" Harry's hand curled around Draco's arm, gently pulling him to a halt and he realized he was being as vague with Harry as Incacha always was with him.

"I don't have to call the soul piece back _here_. I can carry the disk with me to any plane I want. Even the ones where the laws of magic work differently."

He glanced around to get Hermione's thoughts and realized the room was empty. Apparently, the others had left them alone to say goodbye. Draco would be damned before he let this be their farewell.

"Are you sure, Draco?"

"No. But we have to try something before we flambé you."

"Okay. Let's do it." Harry dropped to the floor, settling into his meditation pose.

Draco swallowed hard. He was sure. But what if he was wrong? Waiting might mean Harry deciding it was too dangerous for Draco and changing his mind.

Draco re-formed the circle and sat down across from Harry. Gripping the soul-catcher tight, he murmured the spell that would allow him to carry it and let his mind slip into its trance. He found Harry in the blue forest, but they didn't speak. Instead, Draco found the pale yellow thread and followed it into the depths of the black realm. The bone disk, too real in this unreal plane, felt twice as heavy, weighing him down and slowing him as he tracked the last of the soul-pieces.

Eventually, the dark gray bolt could no longer hide from him. Attention split three ways, Draco held his mental grasp on the soul-catcher, used his link to follow Harry back into blue-tinged plane while pushing the soul-piece along ahead of him. The realms slid past him in a blur of colors and sounds until he stepped once more into the familiar forested astral plane.

"It's about time you got back, feels like we've been waiting forever." Harry grinned at him from where he sprawled on the grass, cougar propping him up on one side and fox stretched out next to him on the other.

Then the Sentinel caught sight of the still fighting soul-piece and pushed to his feet.

"Is that…?"

"Yeah." Nerves almost overwhelmed Draco. He was taking Harry's life in his hands. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

Harry stepped up to him, their bodies brushing, edges blurring where they touched. Electricity shimmered between them, hope and connection folding them into each other.

"Yes. Draco. I'm sure. This is our best chance. I want to survive. I want to stay with you."

With a deep, shuttering breath, Draco nodded, gathered himself and stepped back, drawing a circle around him in the dirt. Then chanted the words that drag the soul-piece into the soul-catcher. The battle of wills was tougher here, the soul fighting harder, unhindered by the physical rules of his own plane.

Finally, finally with one last violent tug, the piece sizzled onto the disk and filled in the bolt-shaped until all but the center eye of the soul-catcher was stained dark gray. Draco slumped, sinking down to the grass. The cougar nudged his elbow and he let it take his weight, eyes closing in exhaustion.

*

"Draco!" Something shook him hard. "Damn it, Draco. Open your eyes. Please."

The desperation and fear in Harry's voice made him fight to lift his eyelids. They were back in the parlor of Grimmauld place and Harry cradled him close.

"Oh, thank, Merlin. Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, fine, just exhausted. I'm good." Let his eyes shift and smiled when there was no sign of the yellow thread. "And so are you. You're free of it. Of him. But now I really need to sleep."

Unable to hold his head up for another second, he dropped against Harry and let consciousness slip away.

#

Harry stood in the bedroom doorway, watching Draco sleeping in the mid-morning son. He'd been unconscious for the majority of thirty-six hours, and Harry was getting a little concerned, despite everyone's reassurance that it was normal.

"He really is fine."

Harry startled a little, then gave Remus a wan smile. Remus, himself, still looked haggard and exhausted. Since he'd started accompanying Draco and learning from Incacha, the moon cycle didn't take it out him like it used to. But he hadn't really recovered from his ordeal, yet, and tonight's impending full moon weighed on him heavily.

"I know. But checking on Draco gives me an excuse to escape the crash course in Arithmancy Hermione is trying to give me, Ron and Neville."

She'd been obsessed with it, ever since her conversation with the portrait. Over breakfast, she'd tried once again, unsuccessfully, to explain the Wenlock Theorem. Neville had seemed to follow along half-heartedly and Ron had just nodded, never even looking up from his pancakes. Harry had grabbed some toast and coffee, wolfed it down before escaping with a concerned expression and Draco's name on his lips. He only felt a little guilty, since he really was sort of hoping his Guide would wake up soon.

"Arithmancy?"

"Oh, you were still asleep when she was haranguing Snape for charts and books and what-not. See, Headmaster Fortescue's portrait—"

Shouts echoed up the stairs from the kitchen and Harry jumped into motion immediately, Remus close on his heels.

Hermione was talking fast, waving excitedly with one hand while thrusting a scroll in counterpoint. Ron and Neville, leaned back in their chairs, eyes wide and mouths gaping in confusion. Sirius stood by counter and side-eyed Hermione while he finished making his tea.

"Don't you see?" Hermione's volume dropped, she sighed in exasperation and tapped the parchment.

" _'When the God of War meets the Bull, on the heels of the wolf's moon._ ' That's what Headmaster Fortescue said."

She turned to Harry and Remus, eyes hopeful but dropped into her chair when they just shook their heads, equally as lost.

"The wolf's moon is obviously the full moon. Mars is the Roman god of war and Taurus is the bull."

She paused, then huffed a breath when no one jumped in. Harry felt a little bad that Draco wasn't here. Though he would never say it to either one of them, their minds worked remarkably similarly and they could jump on each other's train of thought almost instantaneously.

"Mars enters Taurus late tomorrow night."

"One day after the full moon," Remus murmured, stepping closer to look down at the figures and equations scribbled on the scroll.

"Exactly," Hermione beamed. "'…on the heels' of it."

"So, whatever Voldemort's going to do in the labyrinth, it's going to be tomorrow night?" Harry asked tentatively.

"I think so. It's the only thing that makes sense."

"Okay, good. Where is it going to appear?"

She slumped, shoulders rounding, excitement of discovery bleeding out.

"I still don't know. I've been trying to work it out from the leyline charts Professor Snape gave me, but it will take months to do all the necessary calculations."

Harry's hope plummeted. It was almost worse, knowing Voldemort had something big planned so soon, but they still had no idea how to find him and stop him. He plopped into the empty chair next her. Sirius patted him on the shoulder in consolation.

"On the plus side," Neville spoke up into the sudden gloom. "That means Fortescue is probably still alive. You-Know-Who would have had to keep him alive and relatively unharmed to calculate where the maze would appear."

"Fortescue?" Remus perked up.

"Yes, he's the only one who'd be able to tell Voldemort what he needs to know. Do you know where he is?"

"No. But I know who does. And how to find him."

"Who?"

"Where?"

The questions echoed around the room.

"Pettigrew."

Sirius's head shot up. A long, significant look passed between him and the werewolf before Remus continued.

"He was You-Know-Who's liaison to the werewolves. As a show of goodwill, he supplied wolf's bane every month. I overheard him during a couple of visits. One time he was complaining about having to babysit the ice-cream maker."

Harry leaned forward, bracing his hands on the table. "That means he'll be there today."

"If the enclave is still there, after the uproar we caused," Sirius added glumly.

"It is." Snape leaned in the doorway, surprising them all with his silent arrival.

"How do you know?" Sirius demanded "And where've you been? You disappeared yesterday without a word."

He grimaced, his hand squeezing the spot on his arm where the mark hid beneath layers of cloth.

"I was summoned. You're right, Miss Granger, something is happening tomorrow. He wouldn't tell us any of his plans, but he wanted any last minute information we could provide. He was particularly unhappy that I could not tell him where you lot were spending your Easter holiday."

His perpetual frown twitched lightly at the corners.

"I happened to arrive as Greyback was arguing that the enclave needed to be moved. The Dark Lord told him that, after Sunday night, he would be ready for the next stage of his plan and that the werewolves were to stay put until then."

"Okay, then." Ron banged his fist on the table and stood up. "Let's go get Pettigrew."

Harry glanced at the determination on his godfather's face and the stoic resolution in Lupin's eyes.

"Uh, Ron. I think, it should just be Sirius, Remus and I."

"Why?" Hurt and confusion clouded Ron's question.

Harry flounder, searching for a way to explain the visceral need. Finally, he said the only thing that made sense.

"He betrayed us."

#

Sirius huddled in the brush with Harry and Remus, waiting and watching, letting his need for revenge boil until Pettigrew made his appearance.

The traitor Apparated not far from where they hid, glanced around nervously, boxful of potions clutched to his chest and nose twitching, before heading down the trail that led to the heavily warded enclave.

Next to him, Remus went still and tense, and he completely understood. As much as he wanted to lunge out there and grab Peter, they'd agreed it was better to wait until after he delivered the wolf's bane.

Still, it was a tense, silent half-hour while they waited for Pettigrew to return. As soon as he appeared at the trailhead, Remus Stunned him. Then Sirius, wearing Harry's cloak, ran out and grabbed him, dragging him deeper into the brush and trees before dropping him on the ground in an unceremonious heap, hoping with grim satisfaction that the rat would fight and he'd get to leave a few more bruises.

In quick succession, Remus cast a spell that would prevent Peter from transforming into his Animagus form, then a Bubble of Silence before finally reviving Pettigrew.

As soon as he could move, Pettigrew started scuddling backwards, crab-walking until he ran into Harry's legs. Sirius and Remus closed in until all three of them loomed over the prone figure.

"I'm so sorry. You don't understand. You-Know-Who made me do it. I couldn't… he's terrifying… please… have mercy… I'm so sorry—"

"Where's the labyrinth, Peter?"

Pettigrew blinked up at Remus, obviously shocked by the question. And then terror filled his eyes and he began to trembling.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about. What labyrinth?"

"The Rosamunde Labyrinth. The one Voldemort kidnapped Fortescue to find."

"How do you know—" Peter's teeth clacked shut, trying to catch himself before he gave anything away.

"We know all about it. We just want to know where it's going to be."

Peter's head shook so fast and hard, Sirius worried it would snap his neck before they got their answers.

"I can't. He'll kill me. You don't understand."

"Oh, we understand," Sirius said with mock sympathy. Then he leaned down to snarl in Peter's face. "What you've seem to have forgotten, is that in a few hours, the full moon will be up. Poor Remus forgot his wolf's bane. Harry and I of course, will have to leave you alone with him. And you won't even be able to turn into the rat you are in order to scurry away."

The blood drained out of Pettigrew's face and the trembling became a violent shake.

Harry knelt down beside him. Sirius could tell his godson was trying to look sympathetic rather than threatening, but the tight clench of his jaw gave away his disgust and burning anger to anyone who knew him well. Thankfully, Pettigrew was too self-absorbed to notice.

"Look, we've found out all about the maze without your help. Voldemort won't even know you told us." Harry forced a thoughtful, sympathetic look. "Besides, Peter, you still owe me a life debt."

Pettigrew blanched at the reminder but his mouth was already opening, as if by its own volition.

"Uffington. Near the Horse," he croaked out, looking surprised when the answer spilled out.

Harry rocked back on his heels and nodded before raising his wand. "Stupefy."

Sirius watched with satisfaction when Pettigrew went limp.

"All right, then. Let's get him out of here and give him to Shacklebolt so we can finally clear Sirius."

Sirius froze and glanced at Remus, as much as he wanted to get his revenge on the traitor, they'd already discussed this. Closing his eyes, he turned his head away, his mouth twisting in a painful frown and let Remus explain.

"We can't, Harry," Remus said, looking infinitely sorrowful. "If he disappears, Voldemort might realize how close we are. We have to Obliviate him and send him back."

"We just let him go?"

Sirius reached out and squeezed Harry's shoulder.

"Yes. For now, we let him go." Then he flashed sharp teeth and snickered. "After tomorrow, though, we'll have plenty of time to hunt him down again."

#

Draco hadn't been happy when he'd woken up to find Harry had gone into a dangerous situation without him. But the news he'd brought, the final piece to the puzzle they'd been painstakingly putting together for months had made Draco rein in his temper.

Hours of planning, arguing, strategizing and more arguing had followed until they'd hammered out a barebones plan. Despite everything, they were still going into this blind.

Now here they were, the maze already up and Voldemort already inside, the only sign of him was two masked Death Eaters guarding the maze's single entrance. Without knowing the precise space the maze would appear or how many lackeys the Dark Lord was bringing with him, the only choice they had was to arrive late and unseen rather than risk getting caught out in the open.

The labyrinth was composed of fifteen foot hedges, leaves woven so tight together, they became a solid mass as strong and hard as stone.

Luckily, so far, their Disillusion charm kept Draco and the rag tag group of Gryffindors hidden while they waited for the next step of the plan. Snape, of course, appeared right on time. He Apparated directly in front of the entrance, acting like the perfect Death Eater. When the guards recognized him and relaxed, he struck, Stunning them in quick succession.

Before the second one hit the ground, the group rushed forward, Disillusion spells and invisibility cloaks discarded along the way. Sirius and Lupin helped Snape get guards out of sight and Harry stood at the threshold, nose twitching and eyes scanning everything. Neville was a few steps away but had the same, focused look. Charlie hovered near him, but kept back, waiting and watching.

"…no, Ron, remember Fortescue said the maze was resistant to magic…"

Draco ignored Ron and Hermione when they started arguing, again, and took a moment to study what lay before them. He knew the Sentinels had already gained way more knowledge than he would ever glean, but he couldn't help his curiosity.

A single glance made it clear the maze was one of those magical constructions that was much, much larger on the inside than it appeared to be from the outside. The opening corridor was huge, easily the size of a Quidditch field, with a dozen branching pathways led off in all directions.

"Do you smell that?" Harry asked, rushing into the maze. "I can _smell_ him. He's like the damn… things. Only much more rotten."

"Harry, wait…" Draco chased after him, the others starting a half second behind, but Harry was already halfway into the opening corridor of the maze.

Then the ground began to shake, a dreadful rumble that nearly knocked Draco off his feet and forced him to stop moving in order to stay upright. Tendrils of leaves shot out from the left and right, weaving together so fast half of the corridor was blocked before he realized what was going on. Draco lunged forward, trying to get to his Sentinel. The opening between them quickly filled in with greenery and he knew he'd never make it.

Instead of trying, and failing, he ripped the soul-catcher from his neck.

"Harry, catch!"

He heaved the disk through the shrinking hole and Harry's Seeker instincts had him catching it out of mid-air. He glanced from the disk back to Draco with confusion.

"Just touch it to his chest. It will do the rest. You've got the best chance of getting to You-Know-Who."

The wall closed up before he even finished talking and Draco's sank to the ground. This wasn't supposed to happen. They were supposed to face the enemy together.

"Draco, you okay?" Charlie asked, offering him a hand up.

"Fine," he muttered, forcing himself to his feet. "All right, everyone, any ideas…"

He half turned to look at the rest of the group and realized another wall had grown a few feet behind him, leaving him alone with Charlie. The narrow corridor they now found themselves in only had one opening along the right side.

"Fuck!"

"My thought, exactly," Charlie half-smiled, but his eyes filled with the same ache that twisted Draco's heart.

"Well, then, I guess there's only one choice. Let's go."

Draco turned on his heel and marched through the opening with determined steps. He could still _feel_ his Sentinel and he was damn well going to find Harry before anything bad happened to him.

#

"Harry, catch!"

Harry snagged the soul-catcher without thinking and blinked down at it in confusion.

"Just touch it to his chest. It will do the rest. You've got the best chance of getting to—"

Draco's voice cut off abruptly as the wall sealed itself shut between them. Realizing much too late what was happening, Harry ran back, hands hammering on the impenetrable wall of green.

"Draco! Draco can you hear me?" But he already knew the answer to that. The thick walls blocked even a Sentinel's hearing. Harry couldn't even catch the soothing sound of his Guide's heartbeat, there was no way Draco could hear him.

He still felt Draco, deep inside of him, though. Felt his Guide's resolve and focus. The best way to protect Draco was to destroy Voldemort.

With a deep breath, Harry forced himself to turn away from the new wall and stared at the three passageways branching off from the corridor he stood in. Centering himself on the bond, he inhaled, finding the bitter, rotting smell of Voldemort. He wanted to shut it out, everything in him screaming at the wrongness of the scent. Instead, though, he focused in on it, following it forward, through the largest opening and into the heart of the maze.

#

Neville stared at the green wall that had grown out of nowhere in stunned disbelief and felt vaguely betrayed by the plant world. Then the anger and despair burned away his bemusement.

His Guide was on the other side of that wall and he could not protect him. Not that Charlie needed Neville, of course. But those instincts refused to be shut off.

"Ron, don't. I just told you…"

A shower of sparks exploded beside him followed by Ron flying backwards into him and knocking them both to the ground.

Hermione, stood over them with her hands on hips. "I told you, you can't use magic on the maze. The only way through is to use are heads. There are two exits, one to the right and one to the left. Left roughly corresponds to…"

Neville tuned her out while he got to his feet. Whatever scent Harry had caught, he only got a faint hint, with no difference in either direction. Sound was all but cut off as he stretched to the zoning point to find Charlie. But deep inside, there was tug of something. Something that he'd been trying not to allow, but it was there all the same.

"Right," he said, already heading in that direction.

"Neville, wait," Hermione called, chasing him down. "We don't know what's in that direction."

"Hermione, we could sit here all night debating the merits of left versus right," Ron sighed with exasperation.

"Neville's got something extra," he tapped the side of his nose when he said it. "We might as well trust it."

Neville decided to let them believe he was chasing a scent, rather than the ephemeral sense of Charlie.

He followed that sense along with the faint whiffs of Voldemort's distinct stench, as best as he could. Sometimes the two went the same way, sometimes in opposition. Sometimes the only path they had led them a way for awhile. Ultimately, though, the scent and the feel tugged him onward and he knew they were getting closer.

Except, another scent was starting to overpower Charlie's. Whatever it was, it was getting closer.

"Wait." He stopped and tugged on Hermione to get her attention. "Someone's coming."

"Are you sure?" She glanced behind them, but the path they were on was straight and had been on unbroken by a cross branch for several hundred yards.

Neville shook his head. He could hear them coming now, which meant they weren't far away. "We can't go back. They'll see us before we can get back to the last passage."

"Then we'll have to fight." She looked ahead, to the upcoming T intersection. "Which way are they coming from?"

"The left branch."

The three of them positioned themselves shoulder to shoulder, wands at the ready.

Even knowing someone was coming, seeing Bellatrix slither around that corner was a shock. The masked Death Eater with her raised his wand, but she slapped his hand down.

"Well, what have we here? Itty bitty babies, playing in the maze?"

"Merlin, you're irritating. I can't believe even the Dark Lord can stand you," Hermione sneered, surprising Neville. Then she raised her wand a few inches and fired a spell.

Bellatrix barely deflected it and a snarl twisted her face into a beastly mask before she fired back.

Ron and Neville both shielded Hermione.

Then the curses were flying back and forth, shields on both sides shimmered to life before flaming out under the next volley. They were at an impasse and Neville knew it could go on forever. All the while, Charlie got farther and farther away from him.

"Ron, shield yourself and Hermione. Hermione, shield me."

"Neville, what are you going to do?" Hermione asked, but her wand was up and ready.

"I'm going to get us out of here. I hope."

He tucked away his wand, stepped forward and pulled Gryffindor's sword from its sheath.

Bellatrix and her henchman began throwing curses as fast as their mouths could form the words but Neville was at a dead run, sword aimed at the masked Death Eater's chest.

The dark wizard dropped his magical shield and conjured a physical one, inexpertly trying to cover his body from the coming blow.

Neville smiled at the unimaginative reaction. At the last second, Neville swung the sword up, reversing its direction and the pommel crashed down on the Death Eater's skull. The wizard collapsed immediately but Bellatrix turned on him, eyes blazing with insanity.

Her first curse burned through the last of his shield and the second sent Neville tumbling back, several yards into the other branch of the T. His head hit the ground hard and bounced, leaving sparks in his eyes. They cleared in time to see Bellatrix stepping toward him, wand pointing at his heart, lips just starting to form an _A_.

Then the maze rumbled, greenery swiftly filling in the corridor between them and Bellatrix jerked in surprise. The pause was enough for two spells to hit her in quick succession. Her wand fell from her fingers and her eyes rolled back in her head, body dropping like a stone.

Then the foliage closed in and Neville could no longer see, or hear, what happened on the other side of the wall.

Neville groaned and forced his sore body back to his feet, picking up the sword he'd dropped in his uncontrolled roll and re-sheathing it. He was alone and had no idea what he still had to face.

His lower lip trembled and he swallowed hard against the lump of fear threatening to cut off his breath. He'd been through worse. He could do this.

Besides, he wasn't really alone. The faint whisper of _Charlie_ was still there and, as long as it was, Neville would keep pushing forward through any obstacle to get to him.


	8. Chapter 8

The damn maze wouldn't let Draco get to Harry. Dead ends that made them backtrack and walls that sprang up out of nowhere meant it was nearly impossible to make any progress at all. Which, of course, was the whole point of a magical labyrinth but Draco was not in the mood for games.

So he stomped along beside Charlie, glaring at the greenery when the corridor widened out to a junction where four paths converged. He automatically sought Harry, but instead of a sense of his Sentinel, a wash of cold whipped through him. The warning humming along his sixth sense made him stumble and freeze. Looking from opening to opening, he tried to figure out where the danger was coming from, but he couldn't pinpoint it.

"Draco, what is it?" Charlie asked, looking around nervously.

"Did you feel that?"

"Feel what?"

"Cold. Danger. I don't know. Something's coming." Draco tried to ignore it and concentrate on Harry. Whatever was coming, it wasn't going to stop them. Once he pushed away the foreboding sense of danger, he once again felt the warm, impatient tug off to their left.

Then Lucius appeared in the entrance directly across from them.

Draco's heart seemed to stop for a full breath, then it hammered a panicked rhythm. 

"Father?" Draco whispered, the broken sound half-filled with regret and disbelief. 

"Draco," Lucius sneered. "I'm so happy to see you. We have a lot to talk about. I've heard rumors of your… poor choices while I've been away."

It still hurt, to see that disappointed disdain in his father's eyes. He'd spent his whole life trying to be a perfect Malfoy, just so he'd never have to see that look.

He swallowed hard but lifted his chin, refusing to let Lucius know he had any effect on Draco at all.

"Away? You've been in Azkaban, father. You're a convict and a murderer and a Death Eater."

Charlie stepped close to Draco and the reminder that he wasn't alone eased some of the ache and loss eating away at him.

"Weasleys and Potters, son? I thought I raised you to have more discerning taste in acquaintances. No matter. In a few hours, I'll have the leisure to reeducate you."

Draco's resolve hardened. The man was his father, his family. But Lucius had only ever understood that to mean another expression of power. Draco had learned a new definition of family since running away from Voldemort. One that meant concern and caring and unwavering support.

"You raised me to b a bigoted, self-centered ass, just like you. But I've outgrown that, _father_ ," he spit out the word, throwing Lucius's disdain back at him with fury and contempt. "I've outgrown you and the pettiness you think makes you superior."

"I. Am. Superior!" Lucius roared. "The Malfoy's are pure blood. The name stretches throughout history. Noble and aristocratic…"

Draco ignored the familiar lecture, one he'd heard a thousand times growing up. Instead, he embraced his bond with Harry, let his Sentinel's surety and Gryffindor optimism center him.

"We want to go left," he murmured under the cover of his father's monologue, careful to keep his sneer in place and his lips barely moving.

"I know, any ideas how to get passed him?"

"Yes."

Before Charlie asked anything more, Draco stepped away from him. 

"Enough about the glory of our pure blood heritage father," he drawled with feigned boredom. "I've heard this a time or twenty already. It rings a little hollow now that I know your precious Dark Lord is a pathetic half-breed."

"Lies," Lucius snarled in outrage, before his face eased back into its calm mask. "You can't really believe the propaganda Dumbledore and Potter are spewing?" 

Lucius lowered his wand and focused an understanding look on Draco. "I know it was hard for you and your mother when I was taken away from you. I don't really blame you for being confused and scared. I know how persuasive Dumbledore can be and how easy it must have seemed to trust him. But I'm your father, Draco. I'm back now. We can be a family again."

It hurt, a deep, hot throb of all the things that used to be. This was what his spirit guide had been warning him about. It would be so easy to fall under the spell of his father's twisted version of love and family. To make the easy choice of following his father's lead, like he always had, instead of making the hard decisions himself.

But he didn't have to do it alone. And Harry was depending on him.

Instead of answering he smiled, let some of the hope and guilt and regret he felt at the loss of his family shine through. Lucius flashed that satisfied, superior smile and stepped toward Draco focusing now on the threat of Charlie Weasley. 

With his father no longer watching him, Draco let his own triumphant sneer bloom when he snarled, " _Expelliarmus._ "

The wand ripped out of Lucius's hand and went flying. While his father was still shocked by the betrayal, Charlie dropped into a crouch and leveled his wand.

"Stupefy!"

The red jet of light hit Lucius squarely in the chest and Lucius crumpled to the ground. 

"Now what?" Charlie asked, watching Draco with hesitant eyes.

Whatever regret and pain Draco felt at the final ripping destruction of his family, he buried it deep. It could only distract him and be a detriment to Harry if echoed along the bond. There'd be time for grief later.

"Now we bind him and try to get to Harry and Neville."

When they were done with Lucius, the need to find his Sentinel, to get to him _right now,_ filled Draco with constantly growing urgency. The closer they got to the middle of the maze, though, the harder it became to distinguish the right path.

They had to backtrack three times and now they were completely lost. Draco stared blankly at each of the exits currently in front of him, the tug toward Harry coming equally from every direction.

"Which way?" Charlie asked, sounding as desperate and uncertain as Draco.

"I have no idea…" 

His voice trailed off when his fox appeared at the mouth of the left-hand path. A second later, a hawk materialized out of thin air and flew down the same corridor. The fox gave Draco one last look of expectation then loped after the bird.

"Where did they come from?" Charlie asked with wonder.

"The fox is my spirit guide. Gotta' assume the hawk is yours. Let's go." 

Charlie followed him into the path. "You think they'll lead us to Harry and Neville?"

Draco thought of all the times the spirit animals had led him or Harry into and out of trouble. No matter what, when he listened to his fox, he always ended up in the right place.

"Yeah. Yes. They definitely will."

#

Harry had no idea how long he'd been in the maze, following Voldemort's spore through twists and turns, past appearing and disappearing walls. He'd hidden from one group of Death Eaters but had had to fight past another pair. All the while, he'd clung to whatever bits of Draco came through their bond.

He'd felt anger and fear, frustration and regret but also random pushes of hope and love and resolve. All of it kept him going, because no matter what Draco was feeling, the simple fact that he was alive to feel gave Harry strength.

Especially now that he was getting close. Voldemort's stink assaulted him non-stop when he edged up to the opening of what he presumed was the center of the maze. The sound of the Dark Lord chanting in some ancient language drifted through the entrance and he took a deep breath to settle his pounding heart. 

Harry pressed his back to the wall and inched around the edge. The hedges here formed a perfectly square room and the only other exit he could see was diagonally across from where he stood. A low growing hedge created a chest high altar in the center of the room and a narrow channel was carved in the ground all the way around it. 

Florean Fortescue lay bound and gagged atop the altar. The only other person Harry could see was Voldemort, standing with his hands stretched over his head, wand pointed at the sky and a steady stream of dark sounding words pouring out of his mouth.

Whatever the dark lord was doing, Harry knew he had to stop it.

"Expelliarmus!"

He fired the charm as soon as he came around the corner, ducking and rolling right after the light shot from his wand.

The spell simply disappeared when it hit an unseen shield but at least Voldemort broke off his chant when he turned to snarl at the intruder.

His alien eyes widened slightly, then narrowed into a sharp, angry glare.

"Harry Potter. You weren't invited tonight. I don't need you for this." He tilted his head, studying his prey thoughtfully. "However, since you're here, I'll take great pleasure in ending your miserable existence."

His wand twitched toward the altar and an invisible force sent Florean flying off of it, crashing into the far wall. He slammed into the hedge with a sickening thud before dropping, unmoving, to the ground.

"His body would have become the immortal vessel I was reborn into. I thought it a fitting sacrifice, since it was his work that brought me here, to the place where I could create a body as invulnerable as my soul."

Harry wanted to taunt Voldemort with how wrong he was about that, but he didn't dare give anything away. Not yet. 

At least he no longer had to deal with the debilitating pain of simply being in Voldemort's presence. 

"But I think your body will be even more fitting as I am reborn to grasp the power that was always meant to be mine," Voldemort continued to spout about power and glory but Harry had had enough.

" _Avada Kedavra!_ " Harry cast without thinking or planning, simply reacting to the anger and frustration and desperation that always burned inside of him when he faced Voldemort.

The green light burned through the shield, but Voldemort shimmered, sliding from one end of the altar to the other in a blink and side-stepping the spell. 

"That's not going to work, Harry," he sounded amused and that was the most frightening moment of all. "Don't depend on that little trick with our wands, either. As much as I would love to end you with a simple flick, I'm not foolish enough to duel with you again. Ollivander made it clear the outcome would likely be the same any time our wands meet."

Harry should feel relieved, but Voldemort was too calm and too certain of himself. 

"No, I don't need to waste the effort. I have until dawn and I know you, Potter. You're not here alone. Your little friends are scurrying around out there and it's only a matter of time until my Death Eaters collect them up. Once I have them in my fist, you'll climb up on that altar without a word of protest."

His smile then was grotesque and sick, horrifying terror began to claw its way into Harry's heart. 

"A willing sacrifice is always more powerful," Voldemort taunted, pushing Harry over the edge.

" _Stupefy! Confrigo! Expulso!_ "

Harry's rapid-fire attempt was useless as spell after spell just burned away on the magic Voldemort used to protect himself.

Voldemort chuckled, a chill, grating sound of pure evil.

"Do you really think your first year spells are any match for the greatest wizard who ever lived?"

"Same old Voldemort, still filled with delusions of grandeur." 

The unexpected taunt made both Harry and Voldemort swing around to see Neville stepping through the entrance on the opposite side of the room and planting his hands on his hips.

"I can think of five better wizards off the top of my head."

"You pathetic worm, _you_ I can kill," the monster's snarl.

"Neville, watch out!" Harry shouted, stomach clenching when Voldemort turned on the empty-handed wizard. There was no way for Neville to draw his wand in time to defend himself when Voldemort spoke the Killing Curse.

Except, it wasn't his wand but Gryffindor's sword that seemed to leap into Neville's hands rather than being drawn. Neville swung the sword in a sharp arc, bringing the blade up to his chest in time to deflect the spell. The green flash slammed into the metal and scattered back falling like rain into the narrow channel around the altar. A low, three inch green flame erupted, chasing through the trench until it completely encircled the low hedge.

Neville lowered the sword and smirked. 

"Are you sure about that? You heard part of the prophecy. _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…_ You do know it describes me, as well as Harry, don't you?"

Harry frowned, Neville knew the rest of the prophecy. Knew that Voldemort's actions all those years ago sealed his fate. 

But Voldemort didn't, Harry realized when he saw the flicker of doubt slide across the Dark Lord's serpentine features. Neville's taunting was distracting the dark wizard, pulling his attention away from Harry. With slow, careful movements, he slid the soul catcher out of his pocket and concealed it in the palm of his hand, waiting for his moment.

"…haven't you ever wondered how inept, pathetic Longbottom kept surviving? Maybe I was meant to. Or maybe all that bumbling around was Dumbledore's plan. A ruse to keep you focused on Harry so you'd never realize that I was the real threat, all along."

Neville lifted his chin and raised the sword, pointing the tip at Voldemort's heart. The Dark Lord bristled, his wand coming up in response, attention completely caught on the weapon aimed at him.

Harry knew it was now or never and lunged forward, pressing the soul-catcher hard against Voldemort's chest.

The disk flared to life with a near-blinding glow and sunk into the flesh. Voldemort screamed and clawed at object. Then, one by one, the glow of each soul symbol detached itself. Became a hologram floating up in front of his red eyes before diving into him. One by one, the shapes slid from the disk until it was once again bone-white.

Voldemort's screams were high and agonized, and slowly faded into rasping cries as his soul returned to him, bit by bit, until he was whole and human and mortal once again. 

When the disk was empty, Voldemort stared down at it with disbelief. Both of his hands came up to grasp at his chest and he stumble backward, tripping on the edge other channel and hitting the altar with a groan.

Faint green flames licked at the hem of his robes, flowing out of the trench, running up over every inch of his body before disappearing completely into the disk. Voldemort went silent and still, the glow of the soul catcher dimming until it was completely dark. Then the life slid out of his eyes and his body and he slumped to the ground. 

Harry and Neville stared at the body for several heartbeats then at each other. 

Finally, Harry took the first hesitant step toward Voldemort. Neville met him there and, together, they knelt beside the dark wizard. Harry reached out to check for a pulse.

His skin crawled at the idea of touching Voldemort, but there was no tell-tale thud of blood, no rise and fall of breathing. 

He pulled his hand back and sat down, tilting his head up to the sky, laughing with relief and a touch of hysteria. 

"At least there's a body this time, so we know for sure he's gone."

Neville, started laughing as well, a little too fast and slightly breathless when he collapsed next to Harry.

"I don't care what anyone says. He needs to be cremated as soon as possible," Neville said between gulps of breath.

It took a few minutes, before they calmed enough for Harry to start trying to put the pieces together.

"What the hell happened to him? I mean beside the agony of getting his soul back?"

"I think, somehow that groove held the _Avada Kedavra_ Gryffindor's sword deflected into it."

"That's exactly what it did."

Harry jumped to his feet, twisting around to see who had spoken.

"Mr. Fortescue, I'm so sorry," Harry said as soon as he caught sight of the man lying on the ground, still tied. In the heat of the moment, he'd forgotten about Voldemort's victim. "Are you okay?"

He and Neville rushed to the man's side, untying him and checking him over.

"I'm fine, Harry. A few new bumps and bruises and a headache. Now that Voldemort is gone, I can live with the discomfort."

"What did happen to Voldemort?" Harry asked while he helped the wizard sit up.

"The labyrinth was built as a sort of amplifier for magic. The channel around the altar is a reservoir. It will hold a spell and magnify it until someone or something touches it," he explained. "For example, the spell Voldemort intended to perform here would have required him to cast it, then he would have had to destroy his current physical body. When his former flesh dropped into the channel, the spell would have been released. His spirit would have entered me and the power of it would have changed my body into his immortal vessel."

Harry felt cold and disgusted by how close the Dark Lord had come to achieving true immortality. And he'd wanted to use Harry's body to do it.

"What would have happened to you, Mr. Fortescue?" Neville asked quietly.

"I would have ceased to exist. Thanks to the two of you, however, he didn't get a chance to finish casting that spell."

"It was the _Avada Kedavra_ , wasn't it? When it deflected off the sword, it looked like the spell sparks landed in that groove."

"I'm afraid I was unconscious at that point. But it seems very likely. It's exactly the kind of powerful magic this place was built to deal with," Fortescue admitted, then frowned. "I didn't think there was anything that could stop the killing curse."

Neville touched the hilt of his sword hesitantly. "It's Gryffindor's sword."

"Harry! Neville! Are you okay? Where's You-Know… Oh…" Hermione's voice called from the doorway behind him, cutting off when she caught sight of the body slumped by the altar. 

"Ron, Hermione!" 

He smiled when he caught sight of them leaning against each looking exhausted and self-satisfied, then paused when he realized they were alone.

"Where are the others? Where's Draco?"

"Right behind you."

He spun around to see his Guide rushing toward him from the other door. He met him halfway. Draco slammed into him and Harry wrapped him up, holding tight and burying his face against the soft throat.

#

Draco and Charlie got to the center of the maze in time to hear Harry ask about him. 

"Right behind you."

The next few minutes were a blur as Draco and Harry came together, their bodies curling into each other, their minds and hearts sinking into each other's. In the panic and chaos of getting to the Harry, Draco hadn't let himself dwell on how terrified he'd been of loosing this man he'd come to love and need. 

"Never again, Potter. I am never letting you out of my sight again."

Harry laughed against his neck, before pulling back just enough so that they could look at each. "That's fair, since I'm not planning on letting you out of arms reach for a very, very long time.

"Pup, you did it!"

"Harry, are you okay?"

They reluctantly separated to great Sirius and Lupin who dragged a trussed up Pettigrew along behind them. Harry stuck to his word, however and kept his arm wound tight around Draco's waist.

"I'm fine Remus. It's over. He's gone, this time for good. Thanks to Draco and Neville."

Draco shrugged and glanced over at where Neville stood awkwardly next to Charlie. They were close enough that their bodies brushed every time they breathed but Neville's hands hung at his sides, fingers curling and uncurling. Draco knew enough about Sentinels now to know it was a sign of one trying really hard not to reach out and wrap all of his senses around his Guide. 

Neville blushed and ducked his head at all the attention focused on him. 

"I just distracted Voldemort. No big deal," he mumbled.

Draco took pity on him and decided to draw attention away. 

"And I always mocked the Gryffindor notion of teamwork," he smirked, then glanced around and realized he was really completely surrounded by Gryffindors and began to worry. "Where's Snape? Is he all right?"

"He's fine," Sirius waved away the concern. "Mostly. Voldemort's death made the Dark Mark burn like a bitch, but he knew what it meant. So he headed back to the entrance of the maze to fetch the rest of the Order and the Aurors. There's a lot of Death Eaters in this place that are gonna' try to get away when the maze disappears. Those that aren't trussed up, that is."

The struggling Pettigrew glared when Sirius shoved him with his foot.

"Speaking of," Lupin interrupted, giving Sirius a disapproving look. "Does anyone know what happens to us if we're still inside when the maze disappears again?"

"When the Labyrinth fades, all its occupants are deposited back at the spot of the entrance."

Draco startled a little bit when Florean Fortescue spoke up. He'd been so focused on getting to Harry, he hadn't even noticed the wizard when he'd first rushed in.

"Good, I'd hate to be stuck here until the next time the labyrinth reappeared," Sirius said, glanced around and then sat on the ground. "So, since we've got some time, why don't you tell us exactly what happened here."

Draco listened in awe and gratitude at the way Neville and Harry had been able to deceive Voldemort and was relieved when Hermione, Neville and Ron told them about their encounter with Bellatrix. Knowing his aunt was going back to Azkaban lifted a weight from his mind. Next to his father, she was the biggest threat to Draco and his mother. 

Then they all laughed out loud when Sirius described how Pettigrew had blindly run head long into him and fell over his own feet trying to escape when he felt Voldemort dying. 

Finally, Draco admitted in short, terse sentences what had happened between him and his father. Harry's arm tightened around him while he talked, sweet concern and strength flowed along the bond, easing some of the ache and guilt weighing on him. 

Eventually, the conversation turned to the next steps and how the world would change when word of Voldemort's demise spread. The mood was lighter and filled with laughter by the time the maze began to shimmer and fade with the first rays of dawn.

#

Neville had barely noticed Draco and Harry's reunion, his own attention centered raptly on Charlie. He'd followed his instincts and pushed into his Guide, touching his face, his arm, his chest. Scanning every inch the wizard for any sign of injury or harm. Inhaling great, gasping breaths of Charlie's scent.

When he found himself leaning in to lick Charlie's neck, wanting just one taste, he pulled back, mortified. When he tried to step away completely, though, Charlie grabbed his hands, understanding etched on his face.

"Hey, I was worried about you, too. I need this as much as you do." Charlie squeezed his hands once more then let go.

A fast pulse of awareness, not his own, zipped through Neville and her realized, despite his best efforts, a bond had begun to form between them. 

"I'm sorry… I'm not… I didn't mean…"

" _Pup, you did it_!"

Sirius's shout reminded them they weren't alone and they turned, focused on what was going on around them. Through all the discussion and explanations, Neville stayed close to Charlie, but not too close, and bottled up every impulse to reach out with his hands. With his senses. With the faint flutter of connection. 

He remained within reach all through the stories and questions, through the maze fading into nothingness, and explaining _almost_ everything to the waiting Aurors all over again. Harry had glossed over the part about the soul-catcher, referring to it as Shamanic magic, much to Draco's amusement, and nobody had pressed for more details.

There had been a brief few moments of confusion and possible trouble when one of the older Aurors recognized Sirius and tried to take him into custody, as well. But their entire little group, including Snape, had stood between the Aurors and Black with wands drawn. Shacklebolt had diffused the tension, however, pointing out the fact that they also had Black's supposed victim in custody and that they could sort out the rest later.

Once back at Grimmauld place, the last of the adrenaline and triumph had worn off and the celebration had been tacitly put on hold in favor of rest. Neville had escaped to his room as soon as he could, needing the silence and the solitude to try to get himself back under control again. He sat on his bed, head in his hands and tried to figure out what he was suppose to do now. He wallowed so deep in his own patheticness, he didn't notice someone approaching his door until the knock startled him out of his melancholy.

He knew instantly Charlie was on the other side of the door and held his breath.

"I know you're awake, Neville I can _feel_ you."

Before Neville figured out how to respond to that, Charlie let himself in and closed the door quietly, but firmly, behind him. Then leaned against it with his arms crossed, looking more uncertain than Neville had ever seen him. 

"Hey." 

The single word was all Charlie said, but it was filled with a world of questions.

"I'm sorry about the bond." The words burst out in tumble that let loose an avalanche Neville couldn't hold back. "I didn't mean to… I tried not to… It's weak enough. Time and distance should break it…"

Charlie inhaled sharply and pushed away from the door, his posture snapping taut.

"Is that what you want? To break the bond? To end… this?"

The hurt and sadness trapped in Charlie's eyes shocked Neville and he moved forward without thinking, hands on Charlie's bicep wanting only to ease the pain.

"It's not what I want. Never. I want my Guide. I want you. But I want you to be happy and I didn't think you'd want to be tied to someone like me."

"Like you?" Charlie smiled and shook his head. "You mean, a hero?"

Neville dropped his head, looking at his feet. "I'm no hero. At best, I'm the goofy side-kick who accidentally makes things worse."

"Right. Like when you protected Sirius from Death Eaters last year. Or when you saved me from Nagini. Not to mention last night. You faced two Death Eaters with a _sword_ ," Charlie shuddered a little and stepped closer. "You stood your ground with Voldemort and taunted him into trying to kill you so Harry could get close."

Neville shrugged. He hadn't thought about it before doing any of those things. "I just… Harry couldn't get to him, so I had to distract him."

"Exactly. Without you, Harry wouldn't have succeeded and we might all be bowing down to an invincible Dark Lord today."

His fingers slid under Neville's chin, lifting it so they could look eye to eye. 

"Even if I didn't think you were a hero, you're smart. You're fun when you let yourself relax." His hand slipped back to curl around Neville's neck, thumb stroking over his cheekbone. "Good looking."

Neville shook his head and tried to deny it, but he couldn't speak with Charlie looking at him so intensely. 

"Don't argue with me, Neville. Believe your senses and the bond. You'd know if I was lying to you."

And he was right. Every scent, every micro-expression, every even beat of Charlie's heart proclaimed his sincerity. Neville leaned in, wanting this more than he'd ever wanted anything. So close.

There was still something holding him back, though.

"But you're going back to Romania at the end of the year."

Charlie sighed and stepped back, running his hand through his hair.

"Look, I know it's not the most glamorous place. But the Center for the Study of Dangerous Plants is annexed to the Sanctuary. The witch who runs it has been talking about getting an apprentice and I had her owl me a copy of the requirements and an application."

Neville felt his mouth move, but no words came out the first couple of tries. He took a deep, steadying breath and tried again.

"You… you want me to go… to Romania… with you?"

Charlie ducked his head, a pink bright on his cheeks. "I know it's a little selfish but there's not much need for a dragon wrangler in England. If you don't want… I can do some retraining. I can assist an Animal Healer or something, if you'd rather stay close to home."

"No, I… I'm beginning to realize that I'm braver than I thought. I kind of like a little adventure in my life."

Charlie shoulders eased and he looked relieved, moving closer again.

"So the question is, what do you want, Neville? Do you want to me as your Guide? Do you want to try Romania with me?"

"I…" Neville blinked licked his lips and jumped in feet first. "Yes. Yes I really do."

"Good."

He tightened his hold and Neville let himself be pulled in closer, wrapping his arms around broad shoulders.

#

Draco woke up with Harry wrapped around him and snuggled in close. Outside the window, the sky was dark. He had no idea what time it was or how long they'd been asleep and he didn't care.

Voldemort was dead. And they were all still very much alive. 

Draco shifted a little more, letting his body rub slowly against Harry's. Silky skin and firm muscle felt like heaven. He pressed his mouth to the spot behind Harry's ear, then gave soft, nipping bites along the sharp jaw.

"Draco," Harry murmured drowsily, turning and pressing their mouths together in a sleepy caress.

Long, languorous, drugging kisses followed. They moved together twining tighter, body and mind, while the bond pulsed with all the pleasure and affection they both felt.

Harry nuzzled against Draco's neck and slid over top of him. Automatically, Draco let his legs fall open so and Harry settled into him, pressing him deep in the mattress. 

Their mouths crashed together again, hotter, harder kisses that set them both on fire. When he felt the hard heat of Harry pushing against him, Draco moaned and his body pressed back. For a few minutes, they were completely lost in each other and the soft, hot rhythm of their bodies.

Harry groaned, a low, rumbling, primal sound that vibrated electrically through Draco and shifted his hips so they lined up perfectly. Then he froze, eyes popping open. A heartbeat later, he scrambled back, shifting until he was sitting up.

"I, uh, we should probably get something to eat. You have to be starving. We haven't eaten—" Harry shifted his weight, getting ready to flee.

"Oh, no you don't, Potter," Draco leaned up, grabbed his arms before he escaped and tugged him back down to sitting. "You are not running away this time."

Harry's brows drew together and he shook his head. "I'm not. I just thought…"

"You're afraid of completing the bond. But Voldemort's dead. He's not a threat to you or me, anymore."

Harry sighed, but his hands drifted back to rest on Draco's chest, stroking absently. "There are still Death Eaters out there. We didn't get everyone in the maze. They could come after us."

Draco huffed an exasperated sigh and glared. "And I could get hit by the Knight Bus tomorrow. Or fall in the lake again."

"Don't," Harry snarled. 

"What I mean is there's always a danger to you, to me. I think what we can have is worth the risk." He took a deep breath, hands tightening where they wrapped around Harry. "I love you. I want you."

Harry stared at him for so long, Draco started to worry that maybe he'd made a mistake. Maybe he'd pushed too hard. Or maybe he'd been reading too much into what they shared. 

He was ready to backtrack, when Harry leaned down, claimed his mouth in a quick, hard breathless kiss. Then he pulled back enough to gaze at Draco.

"I love you, too. I guess I've just gotten in the habit of trying to protect you. I keep running away, because I don't trust myself to have any control when I get my hands on you."

"Well, you don't have to anymore. Let's just see where this goes. If we spontaneously complete bond, great." He grinned and shimmied against Harry. "If we don't well, we'll just have to keep practicing until we get it right."

#

The morning of his last day as a student, Harry sat at the Gryffindor table, mostly ignoring his breakfast and trying to soak in everything at once.

The thing is, it wasn't all that different from the very first start-of-term feast when he was eleven. Some of the older students had been replaced by younger familiar faces. Ginny and the Creevey brothers sat where the twins and Percy once had. 

But Neville, Ron, and Hermione, the constants in his life for seven years, still surrounded him. They were older, less naive and wide-eyed, but they were still the first, best friends he'd ever had. He doubted that would ever change. 

Neville, for all the Death Eater asses he'd kicked, was still a little forgetful, still got so caught up that he might trip over his own two feet. Ron was still talking with his mouth full, eagerly sharing every detail of their last Quidditch game or re-enacting the Battle of the Maze. And Hermione still corrected all the facts he got wrong or tried to embellish.

The head table, too had seen some changes since that day, like Lupin and Charlie. Mostly, though, it remained the same. Hagrid and Snape, McGonagall, Sprout, Flitwick. Most importantly, Dumbledore, who'd made a full a recovery once Snape had finished the antidote. 

Dumbledore was still Headmaster in name, but Professor McGonagall had taken over most of the duties. The death of Voldemort had led to sweeping changes. No longer cowed by the threat of Death Eaters, wizards and witches had taken a long, hard look at how their Ministry handled things, from suppressing the truth to imprisoning the innocent and they had not been happy.

Scrimgeour had been forced to resign and Amelia Bones had been appointed temporary Minister until the next election. Dumbledore, as Chief Wizard to the Wizengamot, divided most of his time between the trials of the various Death Eaters and advising the new administration. 

After today, though, nothing would ever be the same. The students had taken their NEWTs and were making plans, as were many of the adults who had had their lives put on hold by the actions of Voldemort and his minions.

Sirius had already been cleared and all of his inheritance had been reinstated. Narcissa had returned from exile and the reunion between her and Draco had been both gut-wrenching and heartwarming. Malfoy manner, however, was the scene of many crimes of dark magic, and off limits while the Aurors investigated. Sirius had graciously invited his cousin to stay with him while she waited to return home. In return, she was helping him to renovate Grimmauld Place into something not only livable but also elegant and comfortable.

Among the changes already made by the Ministry were efforts to integrate magical beings into wizarding society, and part of that included being able to openly attend Hogwarts. Remus had been appointed help the new students acclimate into the school as well as teach classes that would, hopefully limit misunderstandings and cultural clashes. Snape had accepted the Defense Against the Dark Arts position and looked incredibly smug about it. 

Neville and Charlie were heading for Romania. Ron and Hermione were planning their wedding. Harry and Draco had applied for Auror training, though they had the entire summer together before the seminars started in the fall. 

As if Harry's thoughts conjured him, Draco dropped down next to him and automatically leaned into Harry's shoulder while he and Hermione, rehashed, again, some difficult problem on the Arithmancy NEWT.

And that was a change that no one could have ever seen coming. Draco Malfoy, comfortable at Gryffindor table, chatting with a Muggleborn and cuddled against Harry Potter. 

Harry couldn't control the grin of amusement and contentment that stretched across his lips.

Draco turned and frowned at him. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all." 

Unable to resist, he shifted and pressed his lips to Draco's and let all of his pleasure and contentment flow along the bond between them. The bond that was full, complete and unbreakable. 


End file.
